


War Widow

by anthfan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthfan/pseuds/anthfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war the Trio has split. Harry's disappeared and Hermione has turned away from magic as a way to deal with being alone. But now there is another threat to the wizarding world, and the Trio must unite once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the third time that afternoon she caught herself lost in thought, staring out the window at the grey clouds, and damp grounds, but not really seeing them. With a sigh she gave the slim band on her left hand one more unconscious turn before gathering up her books and papers and packing them into her satchel, recognizing that she wasn’t going to get any more work done. 

 

At 23, she was still young enough to fit in with the university crowd and not look out of place. It was only when someone took the time to really look at her, to look at her eyes that they realized she was older than she seemed. 

 

Hermione wrapped a soft scarf around her neck and slipped on her coat before bracing herself for the ten minute walk back to her flat. Several other students waved or called out greetings to her as she exited campus and she was only stopped twice, rather a record, to schedule tutoring sessions for the coming week. 

 

The flat was small, but it was hers alone. As she peeled off damp outerwear she was again immensely grateful she hadn’t had to take on a roommate.  The radiator seemed to be out again and for a brief moment she considered just using a warming charm but decided against it, instead choosing to change into warmer clothes and bring the kettle to boil as soon as possible. 

 

Magic. It was, as always, the elephant in the room. She may have been Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age, member of the Trio, and instrumental in the destruction of the Dark Lord, but here she was just plain, normal Hermione Granger, graduate student. 

 

She hadn’t done magic in nearly two years. Her wand was...around. In a drawer in her bedroom if she remembered correctly. She hadn’t been back to England either. Collateral damage from the war. 

 

Immediately following the final battle things had seemed alright. They had all returned to the Burrow at Mrs. Weasley’s insistence, but after a few days it was obvious that the family needed to heal, and to do that properly they needed to do it alone. She chose to head to Australia to find her parents and bring them back. Harry and Ron had both offered to go with her but she turned them down. Ron did it out of obligation and Harry had offered out of fear. 

 

She knew she shouldn’t have left him then. She knew he was on the precipice, but she was so broken herself right then she couldn’t have helped him if she wanted to.  She woke up every night to Bellatrix Lestrange’s putrid breath and a pain in her arm. 

 

Her trip to Australia didn’t go exactly as planned. The spell reversal worked well enough and although her parents were initially upset at what she had done they did eventually understand. What she wasn’t expecting was when they decided to stay on. She visited for a week and then headed back to England. 

 

Upon her return things were worse than ever. She had no home to go to, the Burrow wasn’t an option, and Hogwarts was still in need of repair.  In desperation she took a room at the Leaky Cauldron.  

 

Harry came to see her. In hindsight she should have known what was going to happen the minute he stepped through the door. He still had that desolate, disconnected look on his face. 

 

She had been glad to see him. Now that she was back she was hoping they could fix this together. Help each other even though neither of them could help themselves. 

 

But he didn’t sit when she offered him a chair. He took her hand and leaned his forehead into hers for what seemed like forever, and as every passing second ticked by her heart got heavier. Finally he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and whispered ‘I’m sorry.’ before apparating without a sound. 

 

She didn’t know how long she stood there, frozen in the same position. A maid dropping a mop in the hallway broke her from her reverie and when she startled she realized she was crying. 

 

She floo’d the Burrow immediately but Ron dismissed her concerns, assuring her he just needed a little time and he’d be back soon. But she knew. She felt it. Harry was gone. 

 

A week went by, and then another, and then it had been a month. Finally, others were starting to notice his absence and ask questions. She gave him time and then started searching. 

 

After eight months of hopping all over Great Britain and some of the continent following leads she had to admit he didn’t want to be found. 

 

Her search had given her something to focus on and when that was over she was at a loss. 

 

Helping Harry, fixing Harry, supporting Harry. Loving Harry. This is all she knew, it was all she had known for almost eight years. 

 

It took her time, to grieve really, and to accept a life without him. She didn’t think she had ever gotten to the acceptance part. She didn’t realize how much a part of her he had become. 

 

Ron had started working at WWW and he seemed content enough. She had missed her opportunity to return to school for her last year and recognized the irony that the best student at Hogwarts in almost a century hadn’t actually graduated. However, a fortuitous owl from the Headmistress informed her that she could take her NEWTS with the current 7th years if she would like.  

A furious two weeks of studying again gave her something to focus on and before she knew it she was standing at the gates to Hogwarts, trying to tramp down the panic inside.  All she could see was death and destruction and the noise of spellfire, and people dying.  

 

Her hand shook through the first two exams, but by the time the day was done she had enough to control to see the castle for what it was and appreciate the reconstruction efforts.  

 

She had done better than she had expected, though this was surprising to no one else. The Ministry offered her a position but she turned it down immediately, not truly understanding why herself.  

 

Two sleepless days were spent pacing, and making lists, and even raging at Harry where ever he was before her decision was made. She was leaving. 

 

With some assistance from the Headmistress, an acceptable application package was compiled and submitted to a Muggle university in France even though it was past the due date. She received a letter later that week apologizing for their delay in notifying her of her acceptance and could she possibly arrive in two weeks when the new term began.  

 

Ron didn’t understand why she had to go to some Muggle university in another country, and she didn’t have a good enough reason beyond it was something she had to do. He gave her a hug and told her to not be a stranger and that was that. 

 

There was no one to see her off, and with one suitcase she left Heathrow, not bothering to look down once she was in the air. 

 

She secured her flat quickly and within a week had fully immersed herself in the life of a graduate student. Her classes were interesting, and her professors soon realized the extent of her talent, asking her to do research assistance for them, or help with tutoring. This all kept her busy and her mind off of other things. 

 

Two months after she arrived, her neighbor and fellow grad student, Sarah, invited her to go to a pub with them after class. She protested at first and then reluctantly agreed. 

 

In the small, dark bar, she met some others from her department that she hadn’t really spoken to yet.  They were all swapping stories, getting to know each other, when someone asked if she had a guy. 

 

She felt like the wind had been punched out of her. She had been so actively suppressing thoughts about Harry that to hear someone ask about him, whether they knew that’s what they were doing or not, took her by complete surprise. 

 

Sarah stepped in quickly, trying to change the subject and assure her that it was ok, she didn’t have to answer if she didn’t want to. 

 

“I, um...I lost him. In the war.” she said vaguely. She knew enough about current politics to know they would assume and wouldn’t push for more information and she was right. 

 

They carried on after a moment of awkward silence and she stayed until she felt she could excuse herself without being obvious. On the walk back to her flat she passed a small shop that seemed to sell just about everything. She had passed the shop almost everyday and had never gone in. She couldn’t explain why she did that night, but before she knew it she was inside standing in front of a case. 

 

An older man came up to her after a few minutes, quiet, and finally asked her in French if he could help her.  She gave him a small smile and replied as best she could, although her command of the language had improved significantly since she arrived a few months ago.  

 

Ten minutes later she was walking out of the shop, a narrow band of some sort of darker metal around the third finger on her left hand. If anyone had asked her why had bought it she couldn’t have told them. If anyone had asked her why she put it on that finger she couldn’t have said, other than it seemed like the right thing to do.  

 

It got around the department almost immediately as these things often do. Between her admission at the pub and the ring, she became the ‘war widow’. It suited her just fine. No one questioned her quietness or desire to be left alone and soon enough she recognized that she in fact _was_ in a way a war widow in all the ways that mattered just not in the war they thought. She was also a veteran, but no one knew that either.

 

She was careful to not wear shirts that exposed her forearm, or anything that dipped too low in the front where evidence of her attack in 5th year was still apparent. The only substantial magic she had done when she arrived was cast the strongest permanent silencing ward she knew on her flat. No need to wake her neighbors when she came out of her nightmares screaming. 

 

She managed to carve a life for herself here, or at least a semblance of one. Sarah was a friend now, although Hermione wouldn’t let her get too close. They studied together, had dinner a couple times a month and even gone to the movies once or twice. She was friendly enough with the others in the department, and the undergrads she taught and tutored, but at the end of the day she was alone and she was alright with that. 

 

Ron had contacted her a few times, but eventually they both let too much time go between letters and now she hadn’t heard from him in almost a year. He was her only connection with the magical world. She had chosen to not receive the international edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and with her parents in Australia she had no need to go back to England. 

 

Once a year. On Harry’s birthday she would send a letter to Hagrid. It held the same two words each time ‘Any word’.  And he would always reply with ‘No’. 

 

This was really the only time she would allow herself to miss him. She took the days around his birthday and hid. She’d try and remember happier times, exciting times, times before they were all broken and damaged. 

 

However, as much as she tried not to she would inevitably remember that night, the one she tried to forget because remembering was just too damn hard. 

 

It was _that_ night. In the tent. After Ron had left. When she was so sad and Harry was so full of doubt and despair. The wireless was on but she hadn’t been paying it any attention, her sadness amplified by the horcrux around her neck. Then suddenly he was there, right in front of her, holding out his hand.  

 

She took it without thought and didn’t try and stop him when he slipped the chain over her head. And then they were dancing. At first it was halting and awkward and then she recognized it for what it was, this attempt of his to make her feel better. She smiled and laughed, the first time she had done so in a week.  He twirled her around and over balanced them as they stumbled and turned and then just as suddenly his arm was wrapped around her waist and her head was on his shoulder. 

 

They stayed like that until the song was long over and when she pulled back their eyes locked. She knew what he was asking and she answered him with a kiss. They needed this. They needed this affirmation of something that was good and whole and not sullied by war. 

 

Yes, it was...strange, but it was also very right. When she woke up the next morning with his arm wrapped around her she wasn’t embarrassed, she was just thankful that in the midst of all the hopelessness they had this between them. Forever. 

 

He had pulled her to him tightly one more time before they got up and got dressed.  They never spoke of it again, there wasn’t a need to, or a chance really. But that connection was always there. It was there when she offered to go with him into the Forbidden Forest, and it was there when she saw what she thought was his dead body in Hagrid’s arms, and it was there in a rented room at the Leaky Cauldron when he told her goodbye without saying the words. 

 

Like she had done every year since she had arrived she gave herself those few days and then picked herself back up and carried on. And now here she was. Four years on, away from the war, away from England, away from magic. She was also only a few short weeks away from ending her time here. 

 

That more than anything was weighing on her heavily. She had become so adept at ignoring and burying and distracting herself from anything to do with him and the rest of the world that now that the reality of her future was in front of her she had no idea what to do. 

 

She was putting the finishing touches on her defense, the dissertation having been completed a month ago. A few last formalities and the graduation ceremony and she’d have to face what was to come. 

 

Her flat was still cold even though it was April and with a sigh she poured the remnants of her tepid tea down the drain. Sarah had mentioned the group was getting together at the pub to blow off some steam before the next two hectic weeks took over.  She recognized that warm food and a warm pub were preferable over this and she was out the door before she could second guess her decision. 

 

The pub wasn’t far, but with the dark and the damp it seemed further than it was. She cut down an alley between two buildings to shorten her time in the rain. 

 

A sharp pain in the center of her chest and a flare of heat over her forearm took her breath away and caused her to stumble. In an instant her hand was reaching for the wand that wasn’t there and she was looking for cover. 

 

Panting heavily she pushed wet ringlets out of her face and scanned the dark. She hadn’t had pain in those scars for years. She had no idea what could have caused both of them to hurt at the same time. 

 

She was scared. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The alley was completely deserted as far as she could tell, and other than the runoff from the rain gutters there wasn’t any sound. Her heartbeat was just starting to return to normal when something caught the corner of her eye and an instinct inside her told her to run. 

 

Her muscles tensed and then a shaft of light cut out across the dark space; a bus boy putting a bag of trash out. He didn’t pay her any notice. When she turned back whatever she had seen was no longer there. 

 

It was only another hundred yards or so to the pub and she hurried there, constantly looking over her shoulder. 

 

When she slid into the booth she was still shaking but everyone there just took it for the cold. A hot cup of espresso was pushed into her hands and she smiled thankfully at one of the guys from the department. 

 

She was quieter than usual but no one noticed and before long they were heading out. She chose to walk back with Sarah, and by the time they arrived at the flat without incident she had almost convinced herself that what had happened earlier was just a product of her imagination. 

 

The next morning she left early, determined to spend a few good hours in the library prepping before an afternoon filled with tutoring.  The rain had gone, and even though it was still cold, the sun peeking through was enough to lift her spirits a bit. 

 

There were few students about at this hour and just as she was climbing the steps to the library she felt a prickle go down her spine just before the same flash of pain she had felt the night before hit her chest. 

 

She fell to her knees on the marble staircase and her satchel tumbled from her hands. She scrabbled backwards behind a pillar, one hand pressed into the scar to try and dull the pain. 

 

One time she could throw off, convince herself it wasn’t important, but now...something was going on. 

 

She gathered her things quickly and made her way into the sanctuary of the large building. It took her awhile to be able to shake the stinging pain and the feeling that something big that she didn’t understand was at play, but eventually she was able to settle down and concentrate, although she didn’t get as much work done as she had hoped. 

 

Her walk home that evening was uneventful even though she was on edge the entire time. As soon as she was inside her flat, she didn’t even pay attention to the temperature, instead she raced straight for the dresser in her bedroom. 

 

It took looking through three drawers before she finally found it, tucked in the back buried underneath jumpers she rarely wore. When she drew it out, a faint tingle went through her and it surprised her how natural it still felt in her hand. 

 

After two years of self imposed magical restriction it took her a few tries, but she eventually was able to cast a few levitation spells as practice and then moved on to her doors and windows. Half an hour later there were very few wizards who could get through the wards she had now placed on her flat. 

 

She sat nervously on her couch, idly fiddling with her wand, tracing the carvings and rubbing her thumb over that scar in the wood that had came as a result of being chased by Snatchers through the forest. 

 

She didn’t know what to do. Something to do with the magical world was invading her very intentionally non-magical one. 

 

There was a small wizarding village not too far from campus. That’s where she would go each year to send the owl to Hagrid.  If anyone ever recognized her they had never said and she was never there long enough to be noticed. She contemplated visiting that weekend. Maybe she could find a recent copy of the _Prophet_ , or maybe she’d send an owl to Ron. But she dismissed both thoughts as soon as she had them. Until she had more to go on she wasn’t going to let this unknown affect her more than it already had. 

 

But that night before she went to bed she took the small toy sized trunk off her nightstand and held it tight for a moment before placing it on the floor and casting an ‘engorgio’ spell.  Her school trunk sat before her looking the same as it had four years ago when she had packed the last of her magical things and shrunk it down before leaving England.  

 

Opening the trunk slowly she was surprised to feel tears prick her eyes as she looked at her past. All her school books, spare parchment, empty potions vials, Gryffindor scarf, and a face down picture frame.  

 

She ignored all these items and dug around in the bottom until she found what she was searching for.  Pulling her left sleeve up, she barely glanced at the still raw looking letters before she strapped a thin wand holster to her forearm, wincing as it caught up the scar tissue. Placing her wand in the holster she was brought back to that last year of the war, running from place to place, desperately searching for horcruxes, and trying to end the fear. 

 

Shaking her head, as if she could somehow physically erase the memories, she busied herself with pulling her sleeve down and feeling the slight disillusionment charm activate, not allowing anyone to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

 

Sleep didn’t come easy, and when she did finally drift off she was awaken all too soon by images from the war. 

She was out of the flat right after the sun came up, feeling more confident since she had her wand again. As she crossed the expanse of green in front of the library she felt that prickle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her, and this time she spun around, right hand near her left wrist, ready to pull her wand if necessary. But nothing happened. Her scar didn’t hurt and she didn’t see anyone so she made her way inside. 

 

The next three days went much the same.  She kept feeling like there was someone watching her but could never see anyone. She had already made the decision to head into the wizarding village the next day, when she arrived at her flat. She was halfway down the hallway, approaching the door when she saw it.  

 

Carved into the doorframe right above the knob was the word ‘Mudblood’. 

 

All the air left her lungs at once and she turned quickly, expecting some sort of attack but she was alone. 

 

Reaching out a hand she felt for her wards and found them all intact although it felt as if they had been pushed.  

 

With shaking hands she unlocked the door and stepped in quickly, recasting the wards as soon as she was inside. 

 

Someone had found her. She didn’t know who and she didn’t know how. Or why. She wasn’t exactly hiding. She hadn’t assumed a false identity or tried to actively stay hidden, but she’d had virtually no contact with the wizarding world for four years. Why now? 

 

Her heart was beating so fast she was surprised it hadn’t exploded. Without much conscious thought she raced to her bedroom and threw a change of clothes and a few other things into a small bag before shrinking it and sticking it in her pocket. 

 

Within five minutes of arriving home she was now leaving again. There was a bus that ran between the smaller towns here and if she was lucky she could make the last one that would drop her off one village away from where she was headed. 

 

She saw the bus waiting at the corner and ran the last fifty yards, breathlessly pressing her coins into the meter before taking a weary seat and allowing her eyes to fall shut. She twisted the band on her finger anxiously, hoping that she found some answers instead of more questions. 

 

Twenty minutes later she smiled at the bus driver and got off one town from the wizarding village.  There wasn’t much light and she was nervous as she glanced around, not hearing or seeing anyone. 

 

She pulled her wand from its holster and held it down by her thigh as she headed down the road as quick as she could. 

 

The last town was out of sight and she could just start to make out the lights of her destination when she had the feeling on the back of her neck again and turned to look behind her just in time to see a spell shot her direction. If she hadn’t already had her wand out she would have been hit. She was able to cast a quick protego before darting for the cover of the trees. 

 

She thought about sending her patronus ahead, but no one knew who she was and she didn’t know where to send it. 

 

She tried to calm her breathing and focus on where the spell had been cast from but the forest was once again silent. 

 

Taking a risk she started to step out into the road again when another spell hit, blasting into the tree next to her and sending sharp bits of bark scraping across her cheek. 

 

She hissed in pain and surprise and began firing back. She kept to the woods but stayed where she could see the road and began working her way towards the village as fast as she could. She knew she was making noise, but something told her the faster she got into the town the better. 

 

Spellfire continued to whizz around her, narrowly missing her on several occasions. She fired back over her shoulder when she could. One more bend in the road and she’d be there. 

 

Suddenly fire shot across her right thigh and she crumpled to the ground. She scrambled backwards until she had some cover and began firing in earnest, not allowing herself to look at her leg. She heard a yelp of pain and then the distinctive sound of someone apparating in haste. 

 

Hoping they didn’t have an accomplice she let her head fall back against the tree behind her and took a deep breath. What in the bloody hell was going on!

 

Finally she worked up enough courage and looked at her leg. It wasn’t as bad as she feared. More a burn from a passing spell than a direct hit. The gash was about four inches long and stung like crazy but it wouldn’t cause any lasting damage. 

 

Getting to her feet she took one more cautious look around before stepping out onto the road and jogged as fast as her leg would allow her. 

 

The village was mostly quiet when she entered the main street.  Shops were closed for the night, the only light spilling from the pub where she knew they let rooms above. 

 

The few patrons inside barely glanced her direction, and the bar keep didn’t bat an eye at her appearance. 

 

Key in hand she made her way up a rickety staircase and found her room, immediately casting the same host of wards on this place as she had on her flat. Then she let herself slide down the door and let the tears escape that had been threatening for days. 

 

Her leg throbbed and brought her back to the present. With a long sigh she made her way into the dingy bathroom and enlarged the bag in her pocket. Making due with what she had she cleaned the wound as best she could. Without any potions however, she was only able to cast a very basic healing charm. It took away most of the pain, but did nothing for the mark itself. She’d have a limp for a few days until it healed on it’s own. The scratches on her face weren’t deep they just looked bad. She refused to look herself in the eye, afraid of who may be staring back. 

 

She changed clothes and lay on the bed although she knew she wouldn’t find sleep that night. She’d be counting the hours until the shops opened and she had a chance to get a paper and send an owl, although she was sure now she was being watched. Whoever was after her had to know she was in this town now, maybe she shouldn’t plan on staying long. 

 

As she waited she berated herself for doing such a good job of staying outside of the magical world. Now she had no contacts, no information, and no way of knowing what was going on. She would have liked to have thought that if something big was going down that Ron would have sent her an owl, but maybe she didn’t have the right to think that anymore. 

 

She couldn’t help but wish that Harry was there with her. Being on the run without him felt wrong. 

 

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew weak sunlight was coming through the thin curtains and she could hear life on the street. Rising quickly she forgot about her leg until she took a step and then gasped in pain. The healing charm had worn off quicker than she expected. She cast another one and then continued over to the window. 

 

The shops appeared to be open and there were enough people in the street that she felt comfortable not being caught alone. 

 

The main room of the pub was empty at this hour and the bar keep was no where to be seen so she was able to slip out unnoticed. 

 

The owl post was three doors down and she made it there without gathering anyone’s attention. Inside there was a small queue and she resigned herself to wait. When it was her turn she suddenly realized she had no idea who to contact. 

 

With a tight throat she asked for the most recent edition of the _Prophet_ and hurried back to her room without allowing herself to look at the front. 

 

Safely behind her wards she sank onto the edge of the bed and opened the paper. At first glance there didn’t seem to be anything terribly amiss. The paper was only a few days old, and none of the headlines jumped out at her as reason to explain what was happening. 

 

It was only when she was scanning the shorter articles that she saw something that made her gasp. ‘ _Member of the Trio Still Hospitalized After Vicious Attack’_

 

Her hand covered her mouth in shock and tears blurred her vision as she tried to read the article that was woefully brief. Ron had apparently been attacked at his brother’s store almost two weeks prior from what she could gather. He’d been in a coma at St. Mungo’s ever since. 

 

She tore frantically through the rest of the paper but there was no other article to suggest that there was anything going on to be worried about. Still, she couldn’t help but make a connection between the attack on Ron and what had been happening to her. 

 

She paced the small room trying to decide what she should do. She could try and return back to England, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to try that alone and with no information. She could try and contact someone via owl, but she didn’t know exactly who to write. She could keep running and decide what to do later. 

 

After much deliberation she decided she needed information more than anything else and she couldn’t make another decision until she knew what was going on. 

 

She finally decided to write Mr. Weasley. He worked for the Ministry and would hopefully know if there was a connection between her and Ron. 

 

It took her three attempts to come up with a letter than simultaneously gave enough information to let Mr. Weasley know she was in trouble, but not enough to say exactly what had happened. 

 

_“Am fine for now. Send R my love. Please advise.”_

 

She hoped he would understand and if anyone intercepted it would not give anything away. 

 

There was no one waiting when arrived back at the owl post. She sent it express and inquired about past copies of the paper but the clerk just gave her a look of disdain before gesturing towards the rows and rows of owl cages. All lined with old copies of the _Prophet_. 

 

She told herself that barring any more attacks she’d give herself one more day in town before moving on, long enough to hear back from Mr. Weasley. 

 

She made herself go down that evening and order something to eat, although she knew she wouldn’t taste it. It would do no good to let hunger and weakness affect her, she had learned that when they were searching for horcruxes. She checked the owl post one more time before they closed for the night, but was disappointed to find there wasn’t a response. Hoping she’s have one in the morning she headed back to her room. 

 

She had forgotten to leave a light on when she left earlier and the room was disturbingly dark when she entered. Cursing her poor choice she recast the wards and made her way over to the nearest lamp. Just as she turned it on she sensed him. 

 

With her heart in her throat and her wand half drawn she spun on her heel to see the only person in the world who could take down her wards. 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

He sat in the lone chair. Black robes. Stony expression. He was so still she wasn’t even sure he was real until he got up and moved towards her. He was taller, and broader, but his green eyes still shined bright behind his glasses. 

 

The blood was pounding so loudly in her head she was unaware she had gasped his name. Throat clogging with tears as her eyes blurred, not wanting to allow herself to believe what she was seeing. 

 

Her knees felt weak, and between the shock of seeing him again and her healing charm wearing off, her right leg chose then to give out on her. 

 

She would have hit the floor if he hadn’t caught her by the elbows. Her breath hitched at the contact and she shut her eyes tight in an attempt to center herself. 

 

He guided her to the edge of the bed and helped her sit and when she opened her eyes again he was kneeling in front of her. 

 

He didn’t look so hard now. Looking down at him, he looked like the Harry she remembered, slightly sheepish, and worried about what she was going to say. 

 

“I’m sorry.” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear him and then bowed his head to await her reaction. 

 

She swallowed heavily, realizing that in four years these were the only words he had spoken to her. They were the last words she had heard him say in England and the first ones she had heard him say here. And as he waited her hand came up as if from it’s own volition and fell gently on the back of his head. 

 

She felt him shudder and then she was stroking the dark locks, watching her hand as if it was no longer attached to her, because she never would have expected to find Harry Potter in her room on this night. 

 

As she touched him her breath began to even out. She let her hand ghost over the side of his face, fingers brushing the familiar metal frames until she cupped his cheek. Two strokes of her thumb and then she pulled up gently until he raised his head and met her eyes again. 

 

“Hello.” she said, no more than a whisper. 

 

“Hello.” he replied, hope starting to reach his eyes. 

 

“You’re really here?” eyes watering once again. She had imagined this day so many times. 

 

“I’m here.” 

 

And then before she could stop she launched herself towards him. “Oh, Harry!” she exclaimed, wrapping both arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. 

 

He caught her on reflex, and maybe muscle memory, and barely kept them from tipping over backwards. 

 

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.” she whispered fiercely and feelt his hold on her get tighter. 

 

Eventually she feelt his hands in her hair and rubbing her back and they both shook when he let out a shuddering breath. 

 

She held him forever it seemed, not caring that she’s getting him wet. He still smelled like Harry and felt like Harry, and it’s been _so long._

 

She pulled back a little so she could look at him, her hands on their own mission to touch him everywhere. Rememorize. 

 

“Where have you been?” she asked, not expecting an answer. “Where have you been, Harry.” she repeated, her hand trailing over his jaw noticing a new scar on his chin. And then her own question resonated with her and suddenly she was furious. 

 

She wrenched away from him and staggered to her feet. “Where in the hell have you been!” she yelled. He didn’t move. “Where did you go? I looked for you for almost a year! I put everything on hold to find you, but you just disappeared!” 

 

He still wasn’t looking at her and then suddenly he was standing in front of her. A head taller than her now. But he still hadn’t said anything, which just made her more angry. 

 

“It’s been four years!” she roared “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.” she choked on the last word and had to turn away. 

 

She heard him try and start a sentence and she whirled back “No! I don’t want to hear it. There is nothing you could say that could make this o.k. Nothing.” she stalked to the window unable to look at him. 

 

She’s never been more unsure of anything before in her life. She was so incredibly angry at him, and at the same time completely overjoyed he was there, in front of her. 

 

The anger was easier to focus on, it had been simmering just below the surface for the past four years. 

 

“I know you were hurting, and messed up, and needed time, but so was I. I searched for you long after everyone else told me to stop. I kept looking, because I needed to. And all around me everything and everyone was being fixed, but I couldn’t worry about fixing me then because I had to find you. Except I couldn’t find you because you didn’t want to be found.” 

 

He hadn’t moved from where she left him, but she knew he was listening. 

 

“And then there came a day when I had tracked down another dead end and I just knew. I knew that I wasn’t finding you because you didn’t want me to. And that’s when I gave up.” she knew she sounded bitter and dejected and a part of her hoped that stung him because she had never given up on anything else in her entire life and he had made her give up on the one thing she never thought she could ever give up on. 

 

He took a step back at that and she knew he understood.

 

“Harry Potter made me give up on Harry Potter.” she said with a dark laugh, “It’s kind of meta if you think about it.” 

 

Never, in all these years had she ever really admitted to herself what she had done and why she had to leave. She had to get away because staying in England would mean constant reminders of what had happened and how she had failed. She wouldn’t have been able to handle the stares and the questions. ‘Surely if anyone could find Harry Potter it would be Hermione Granger.’ Surely not, she scoffed to herself. 

 

She was ashamed. 

 

Ron had told her over and over again ‘He’ll come back when he’s ready.” 

 

Well what about her. Where did it leave her. Was she expected to be put in perpetual stasis until he decided it was time to come back. She couldn’t move forward until he was at her side and until that happened she was stuck. And then she had realized it was what she deserved.

 

So she made what they called a ‘lateral move’ in the muggle world and she slid sideways into university.  Waiting. 

 

It was her penance. Her way of paying back the universe for doing the only thing she said she would never do. 

 

“Is four years enough?” she asked him, tears threatening once again “Is it enough atonement for what I did? Because if you come back and then leave again I don’t think...” she broke off on a sob, wrapping her arms around herself for support. Her head was so light then she didn’t know how she was staying upright. “I don’t think I’d survive it.” and then she was falling apart. 

 

He caught her as she fell, at least she assumed he did because the next thing she knew she was sitting in his lap as he leaned back against the side of the bed and he was stroking her hair and saying “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” over and over again. 

 

She reached up a tentative hand and he surprised her by grabbing it and pressing it to his cheek. The next time he repeated his mantra she shushed him gently. 

 

“Gods ‘Mione.” he almost sobbed and her heart clenched at the sound of him using her nickname, she never thought she’d hear it again. “I want to tell you. I will tell you. But I just can’t right now.” 

 

She unconsciously tried to pull back, but he held her tighter “I know I don’t deserve that from you, but I hope that you’ll understand. I hope you can forgive me.”

 

She was silent for a long time “Can you at least tell me one thing?” and she watched him swallow audibly before he nodded his consent. “Did you miss me?” she asked brokenly, hating how small she sounded. 

 

He stopped breathing for a moment and then her face was pressed into his neck as he clutched her to his chest “Every day.” he murmured “Every damn day. Don’t ever doubt that.” and he said it so fervently that she could do nothing but believe him. 

 

They stayed like that until she felt like she could look at him without bursting into tears, and then she sat up slowly and gave him a small smile before climbing unsteadily to her feet using the bed as leverage, trying not to wince as her leg smarted in protest. 

 

When she was once again seated he stood in front of her, looking entirely awkward and ill at ease and she simultaneously wanted to make him feel better and be glad that he was feeling so miserable. 

 

She ran a hand through her hair and took a ragged breath and then he was grasping her hand in his and turning it into the light. 

 

“What is this?” he asks roughly, looking at the band on her left hand. “Did you...I didn’t think...I mean you could have...” he trails off, clearly affected by what he’s seen. 

 

“It’s just a ring.” she said wearily, not knowing if she has enough strength to explain that as well. 

 

“It’s not...”he started, still holding her hand, still staring at the ring. “It’s not from...”

 

“No Harry.” she said softly, taking pity on him “It was just...easier.”

 

“Easier?” he parroted, not understanding. 

 

“When I first moved here someone asked if I had anyone, had a guy, and I reacted...poorly. Before I knew what I was doing I said I had one, but I lost him in the war.” she gave him a sad smile “They didn’t ask which war and I didn’t tell. They just assumed he was... that _you_ , were dead, and I let them think it. Not long after that I bought the ring.” she tried to shrug it off, like it wasn’t a big deal but the look he leveled her with let her know he wasn’t going to allow that. 

 

“I told myself I bought it because it fit the story, the ‘grieving young war widow’.” and she sees him visibly flinch at her words. “But really...I really bought it because it’s how a felt. I did feel like that, like you were dead, whether you really were or not, I had lost you in the war. In my life you were gone. So the ring reminded me of you, and of what we had, before the war.” 

 

The look he was giving her now was so intense she couldn’t have looked away if she had tried. “And what about during the war?” he asked, knowing she would know exactly what he was talking about. 

 

“It reminded me of that as well.” she admitted and it was a long time before he broke her gaze. 

 

“So, if you can’t tell me where you’ve been can you tell me why you’re here now? Is it in an official capacity?” she asked, gesturing towards the robes he wore that obviously belonged to an auror.  

 

He looked surprised for a moment and then gave a rueful shake of his head. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.” 

 

She was tempted to make a snarky reply regarding the four years he had been evading her but she chose to hold her tongue. 

 

“Yes, I’m an Auror, but not in the way you’re familiar with. I’m more on an as needed/where needed basis. That’s all I can say right now.” he said apologetically

 

She nodded her acknowledgment of his unspoken request to not press for more information. 

 

“Are you here because of what happened to Ron?” her voice was thin and strained, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. 

 

He scrubbed a hand over his tired face before answering “Unfortunately, yes, I believe so.” 

 

Her eyes shut for a moment “Have you seen him? How is he? The only thing I’ve read was in one horribly short article from a three day old _Prophet_. I have no idea what’s going on.” she had gotten more frantic as she spoke, the reality that one of her best friends may be grievously injured finally hitting home. 

 

He knelt in front of her and clasped her hands in his “Hey, calm down. I’ll explain everything I know.” he waited until she nodded once and gripped his hands tightly “I only heard about Ron yesterday and headed back to London as soon as I could. He’s woken up twice since the article you read, and the healers think he’ll make a full recovery, it’s just going to take some time.” she let out a sigh of relief and blinked furiously to clear her watery eyes. 

 

“That’s good news. Very good news.” 

 

He smiled in response and squeezed her hands again. “Now, can you tell me what’s been going on here? Everyone thought the attack on Ron was an isolated event but your owl to Mr. Weasley this morning changed all that.” 

 

“If they thought it was isolated why were you called in?” she asked

 

“Mr. Weasley knows about my...situation. Things were looking bad for Ron and he requested that they send for me. By the time I was found and I arranged to come back he was improving.” Harry explained. 

 

“Oh.” she said, trying not to let the hurt show that no one had contacted her. 

 

“Hey.” he said, lightly turning her head back towards him “Ron was the only one who knew where you were. They searched his flat but couldn’t find anything.” 

 

“So, you said no one knew anything until I sent the owl?”

 

“When Mr. Weasley got it he thought something seemed off. I had arrived about an hour earlier and he showed it to me. ‘Am fine for now.’  That seemed like maybe things hadn’t been fine and you didn’t expect them to stay fine. And since we then had an owl we knew where you were. I tied up a few loose ends and apparated here. It wasn’t hard to find your room, I just walked around until I discovered the one with the most complicated wards.” 

 

She shook her head at him and tried not to smile, she was still mad at him. 

 

“Can you tell me what’s been going on? How you got hurt?” his hand came up and brushed gently across the scrapes on her cheek and she felt her breath catch. 

 

“I’m not really hurt.” 

 

He just leveled her with a look “I’m not. I swear. It’s healing fine on it’s own.” 

 

“You can say whatever you want, but don’t think I’m not looking at that leg when we’re done here.” he said seriously

 

“My leg is fine.” she retorted, annoyed that he saw how much it was hurting her.

 

“Didn’t look fine when it gave out on you earlier.” he countered smugly since he knew he was right. 

“Fine.” she conceded 

 

“Now, what’s been going on?” 

 

She told him everything. From the pain in her scars that night in the alley to the carving in her door to the attack on the road. 

 

“I got here yesterday and I haven’t had that feeling of being watched.” she admitted, and gave an involuntary shudder at the memory. “No one seems to know who I am here.”

 

“You never got a good look at the person who attacked you?” 

 

“No. In fact I never really saw anything, just the spells going by. Whoever they were they stayed far enough back and in the trees so that I couldn’t make them out.”

 

“Did you recognize the casting?” oftentimes certain wizards would become known for sticking with a specific repertoire of spells. 

 

“No, it was all non verbal of course and other than the one that blew the side out of tree and the one that grazed my leg I was lucky enough to not get directly hit with one.” 

 

“And they didn’t get into your flat?” he had stood up and was pacing in the small space in front of her now. She was reminded of how he would sometimes do the same thing in the common room while trying to work out what to write for an essay. 

 

“Your flat ‘Mione?” he asked again, taking her from her memory 

 

“Oh, sorry. Um, no they didn’t get in. Same wards as here. They tried, I could feel that they had attempted to bring them down, but they weren’t successful.” 

 

“Not many people can get through your wards.” he said, pride in his voice

 

“That’s the point of wards.” she replied, sounding harder than she intended and she saw him flinch. 

 

“No. Harry. I didn’t mean...” she cut herself off and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and sighed deeply before trying again. “I’m glad you got through my wards.” 

 

He gave her a weak smile and then gave her hands a tug. “How about we fix that leg of yours.” 

 

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could he barely pressed a finger over the wound and she saw stars. “Don’t say it’s fine.” he stated and helped her scoot back to the head of the bed. 

 

“You play dirty Potter.” she ground out, her leg throbbing now. 

 

“Whatever works.” he admitted. 

 

She realized the problem before he did and made the decision that it wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before so she shouldn’t be embarrassed. 

 

She was undoing her belt when it seemed to dawn on him that she’d need to take her pants off for him to see the burn. He flushed red and cleared his throat before he turned away slightly under the guise of removing his robes. 

 

Underneath he was wearing a blue button down and dark jeans that suited him. By the time he was through rummaging in the pockets of his robes she had divested herself of her pants and was propped against the pillows. The long sleeved tee she was wearing covered her for the most part and she met his eyes with a challenge to see if he was going to make a deal out of this. 

 

She wasn’t sure how they stood on that subject. It had only happened once and right after that everything had been so fast. Snatchers and the Malfoy house and Bellatrix and Dobby and breaking in and out of Gringotts and the final battle. There hadn’t been a moment to breathe much less talk about it and then he was gone. Sometimes she wondered if she had imagined it. But then tonight she’d seen the flash in his eyes and she knew he remembered. 

 

She shook her head quickly, needing to get those thoughts out of her head and bent sideways to look at her thigh. 

 

“See, it’s not that bad.” she repeated. “Looks better than it did this morning.” she says with self confidence. 

 

“Let me look. I had to learn a fair bit about healing in auror training.” 

 

She sat back, and watched as he dug through a pack he had pulled out of his robes and then enlarged, it seemed to be filled with potion vials and tubes. 

 

He knelt next to the bed and laid one hand on her leg above the wound while he used his wand to cast a diagnostic spell. 

 

She felt her stomach flip at his touch and she hoped he wouldn’t detect the increase in her heart rate. 

 

His eyes grew dark and he dropped his wand harshly on the bed before turning to his kit. 

 

“What was it?” she asked softly

 

“Severing charm” he answered in a short clipped tone 

She was lucky then. If it had been a direct hit she could have lost her leg or bled to death before anyone found her. 

 

“Oh.” she said shakily and ran a hand down his arm, not missing how tense he was. 

 

He turned back and handed her a potion. “Drink” he directed and she swallowed it down obediently, grimacing at the taste but immediately feeling the throbbing begin to stop. 

 

“Better?”

 

“Much. Thank you.” 

 

He didn’t answer, just picked out a jar and scooped a fair amount of salve onto his fingers. She hissed when he applied it, her hand clutching a handful of his shirt. 

 

“Shh, just give it a second.” and sure enough it was soon blessedly numb. The majority of the redness began to fade and she relaxed back into the pillows, letting go of the death grip she had on his shirt but not removing her hand. 

 

She let her other hand rest across her forehead and let her eyes fall shut as he finished up. There was clanking of bottles and some ripping noises but she was so tired she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. 

 

A shot of something she didn’t want to address went through her when he began taping a gauze square to her leg and one of his hands trailed dangerously high while making sure it was secure. 

 

She knew he couldn’t have missed her reaction and she dared peek through her lashes to see him busily packing his kit back up, her hand falling from his arm as he stood to move his things out of the way. 

 

She chided herself for her reaction. There was every chance he didn’t feel that way about her anymore, or that he didn’t ever really feel like that about her in the first place and that night was only about what was needed in the moment. 

 

She had rehashed all of these thoughts a million times in her head but that had done nothing to prepare her for the reality of what it would mean when she saw him face to face again. 

 

She wanted to talk to him, but she was drained right then, mentally and physically and as much as she wanted to stay awake and make sure he wasn’t going to disappear in the middle of the night she could feel herself starting to drift off. 

 

Something soft was placed over her and she opened one eye with some effort to see him tucking his robes around her. 

 

“Did you put something in that potion?” she asked slowly, hating how off she sounded. 

 

“You need to rest.” was his reply and she saw him making his way back to the chair, clearly intending to stay there. 

 

“Don’t” she said “C’mere.” reaching one hand limply towards him and did her best to scoot to her left and make room. 

 

He hesitated, clearly torn between what he wanted and what he thought he should do. 

 

She could feel herself getting sleepier by the second and she desperately needed him near her, partly for comfort, but mostly so that she could insure he wouldn’t run again. 

 

Her breathing got deeper and she fought sleep with everything she had when she felt the bed dip next to her as he climbed in. 

 

“Safe here?” she murmured, barely able to speak, and then she felt a hand stroke through her hair and over her shoulder “We’re safe. Your wards are good. We’ll figure out where we’re going in the morning.” 

 

She hummed her approval before turning towards him slightly, bringing her right arm up to grab clumsily at his hand and dragging it over her stomach, anchoring him to her. 

 

“Don’t leave.” 

 

“Never again.” he promised and the last thing she was aware of was his lips brushing across her temple. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

She woke up slowly, groggy-headed from the potion. Another rainy day was keeping the sun from announcing itself leaving the room dark. The first thing she noticed was that her leg no longer hurt. The second thing she noticed was one very asleep Harry Potter with his head pressed into her shoulder blade and a hand still clenched in the fabric that covered her stomach. 

 

So it wasn’t a dream. He was really here and he had really stayed. She let out a shuddering exhale, just then realizing how much distrust she had that he would actually be there in the morning. 

 

Where had he been? Four years with no word and now she discovers he’s some sort of Special Branch Auror for lack of another definition. Who in the Ministry knew? Kingsley for sure, that much was certain, but she was so out of touch she didn’t even know who the head of the Auror office was right then. 

 

Was he a Hit Wizard? That could explain his inability to go into detail about his job, but she couldn’t actually see Harry as a Hit Wizard. They had a reputation for being dirty and going rogue, doing things outside the scope of regulations. But she had to admit that she didn’t really know the Harry lying next to her.Maybe that was something he did now. 

 

She came back to the same question: Where had he been? He hadn’t been in England, of that she was certain. He had to have been far away, he had said he had to be ‘found’. That made it sound like maybe even his own department didn’t know where he was at all times. Then he had said he needed to make ‘arrangements’ to come back, which suggested he was involved in some sort of operation that he couldn’t just walk away from, maybe even undercover. Itwould be hard for Harry to go undercover even with glamours.  Polyjuice was always an option, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be his first choice. 

 

There were wizards and witches all over the world; however, there were only certain areas that had large communities like in England. She had to posit that an Auror of Harry’s ‘specialty’ would not be stationed in some tiny wizarding village in Belgium. It made more sense to assume that he was someplace more populated. Not only more populated but one of the larger populations of wizards outside of Great Britain. That really only left St. Petersburg or Hong Kong. 

 

She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t felt him begin to wake. 

 

“Worked it out yet?” he asked, voice rough with sleep and she started not only because he surprised her but also because of the way her stomach flipped at how he sounded. 

 

She swallowed heavily and licked her lips before she replied. “Eastern Europe or Asia.” not wanting to annoy him by being too specific, since he didn’t want her to know where he’d been. 

 

“Don’t insult me Hermione.” he pushed.

 

“Fine. St.Petersburg,” she said in a clipped tone. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to start the day. 

 

He rolled to his back and sighed heavily, the hand on her stomach fisting in the fabric. “Gods ‘Mione, why do you have to be so bloody brilliant all the time?” 

 

She didn’t answer. 

 

“How’d you know it was St. Petersburg?”

 

“Your cloak. Heavy weight fabric meant for cold climates and I could feel the warming charms still on it when you put it on me last night.  You wouldn’t need that cloak in Hong Kong.” 

 

He rolled back towards her and pressed his forehead into her collarbone. “You can’t know that. You can’t know where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing. It’s not safe.” 

 

She brought her left hand up instinctivelyand combed through the fringe over his scar, taken by the genuine concern in his voice. 

 

“Are you a Hit Wizard?” she had to ask. 

 

He let out a dark laugh and shook his head “No. Nothing like that. I can’t...I need you to forget where I’ve been, ok? It’s not safe for you to know. No one can know.” he pleaded 

 

She pushed his hair out of the way and began to trace his scar. She had never done that before. “Ok, Harry. I won’t mention it again. I promise.” 

 

His eyes slammed shut and she could see him fighting for control. “Thank you,” he said, voice gruff, and she just kept tracing the jagged mark. 

 

The hand from her stomach came up and wrapped gently around her wrist, pulling it away from him slightly so he could look. His thumb followed her lead and ran over the last ‘d’ that still stood out so vividly where her sleeve had fallen back. 

 

With a flash of panic she realized her arm was bare. “Where’s my wand?” she asked frantically, eyes shooting around trying to find it. 

 

“Calm down,” he said forcefully. “I took it off of you last night after you fell asleep. It didn’t look very comfortable.” Reaching behind him he grabbed her wand and holster off the table and pressed it into her hand. 

 

She felt less panicked as soon as it was in her hand again. “It’s funny, I haven’t used this wand in so long I couldn’t even remember where it was at first, and now that I have it again...it feels like it’s been no time at all.” 

 

“That’s because you’re a witch Hermione, you’re supposed to do magic.” he said quietly, and she could feel him scrutinizing her face. “So how come you stopped?”

 

“Ah, _the_ question,” she began, not sure how or if she could explain this to him. 

 

“Yes. The idea that you haven’t done magic in so long...I can’t quite understand that.” 

 

“Well, right now, lying here with you...I can’t quite understand it either.” she admitted and then took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s only been the past two years or so really. At first I used it for little things like the washing up or summoning a book from across the room. After awhile I realized I was using it less and less. And when I did use it...it just reminded me too much of what I lost. Magic meant you,” she said with a small shrug. “So one day I put my wand in a drawer and I didn’t get it out again. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think, and it helped lessen how often I remembered.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated unnecessarily 

 

“Harry, why...” but she didn’t get any farther before he cut her off.

 

“Not now ‘Mione. I can’t.” And then he was pressing a quick kiss to her forehead and swinging his legs off the bed, heading for the bathroom. 

 

She brought both hands up to cover her face and let out a small growl of frustration. She’d spooked him. 

 

She could hear the shower start and knew he was trying to give them some space. But she needed to know. Not what he was doing now or the specifics of his mission, although she was of course curious, but she needed to know why he left and didn’t come back. She needed to know why he left _her_. 

 

She gave herself a few minutes to wallow and then sat up letting her legs hang over the side of the bed. The bandage was still in place but she felt no pain. Whatever Harry had done last night had worked. 

 

She heard the water turn off and only a few moments later he stepped out and she may have forgotten how to breathe. 

 

No glasses, hair wet, towel wrapped around his waist...she got a very good look at Harry Potter for the first time in a long while. 

 

She must have made a noise because his head whipped towards her and he had the good grace to flush. “Oh, um, sorry. Left my pack out here and...I thought you’d be...I just thought you might be asleep again. Let me just grab it and I’ll be...” and then he caught himself stammering and snatched up what he was looking for and headed back into the bathroom, door shutting a bit harder than necessary. 

 

She hoped she hadn’t looked too shocked. They had been very carefully avoiding bringing up _that_ , and she didn’t think right now was the time. 

 

He came out a few minutes later, fully dressed, and not looking the least bit sheepish. The Auror mask seemed to have slipped back into place. 

 

“Want me to look at that?” he asked, pointing at her leg. 

 

“No. That’s alright, I’ll deal with it,” she said quickly, standing to make her way towards the bathroom. 

 

Now it was his turn to stare as she realized too late that she was only wearing a shirt that stopped at her hips and a pair of cotton knickers. 

 

“It feels loads better. Promise,” she said with a tight smile “I’ll just be a minute and then we can figure out what we’re doing.” Before he could respond she slipped through the door. 

 

She leaned back against the door and mistakenly took a deep breath. Instantly she was flooded with the smell of his soap and it brought back so many memories she felt light headed. 

 

She couldn’t go there right then, it wasn’t the time. So she turned her attention to the bandage on her leg. 

 

It peeled off easily and she was pleased to see the wound was entirely healed. Other than a faint whitish line you couldn’t tell anything had happened. 

 

She resigned herself to a quick wash, and ran a comb through her unruly locks before rejoining him. 

 

He had been busy while she was in the bathroom. The bed had been made, his pack was out of sight-presumablyshrunk-and her bag sat waiting on the chair along with her wand and holster. His robes must have been in his pack or he had transfigured them since he now wore a short leather jacket instead. 

 

“How’s the leg?” he asked, clearly trying to move on from what had happened earlier.

 

“It’s perfect. Barely a mark.” she answered with a smile and crossed to the chair to get her things. As she was strapping the holster to her arm she could feel his eyes on her scar. “So, what’s the plan?” she said, wanting to distract him. 

 

“The plan?” he said with a start and lifted one hand to rub over the back of his head nervously and then he was back. “The plan is to get you back to England.” 

 

“And...”

 

“And nothing. That’s it. You need to be back in England where you can have some protection and I can figure out what’s going on.” 

 

She looked at him in disbelief. “Are you serious? You expect me to just do as you say and head back home, only to be hidden away in a tower somewhere while you go and slay the dragon.” 

 

“I highly doubt there is a dragon involved Hermione, although...” he stated in all seriousness

 

“It was a metaphor, Harry!” she barked “You can’t seriously believe I’m going to agree to this.” 

 

“I wasn’t asking your permission, nor do I need your consent. This is how it’s going to be,” he said forcefully, and the look on his face told her he wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded. 

 

“Just try me, Harry Potter,” she retorted, her anger rising at his presumption that he could just bully her around like this. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen me, but I would hope that you haven’t forgotten the last year we were together where I saved your skinny arse on a semi-regular basis, so don’t try and treat me like I’m some mark that’s just going to cow tow to your commands because you’re mister big Auror man now! This is my life and I have every right to...” but she’s cut off because in the blink of an eye he’s advanced on her and has grasped her by her shoulders and looks like he wants to throttle her. 

 

“You’re going to listen to me!” he growls, and she can tell he’s barely keeping himself from shaking her. “They called me back because they thought Ron was going to die! I come here and discover you’re being hunted. I intend to do whatever I can to keep you safe and if that means that you’re going to do what I say and listen to me then that’s what it means.” She opened her mouth to retort but his look alone quieted her. “I will not keep you in the dark. You are the most brilliant witch I know and I know you have saved my ‘skinny arse’ more times than I care to count but this is what I do, Hermione. So you’re going to have to trust me.” 

 

His breathing was ragged and she couldn’t look away from him. “That’s what this comes down to. Do you trust me?” 

 

Her throat was so tight she didn’t trust her own voice right then and then before she knew it she had waited too long and he was pulling away, the hurt evident in his eyes. 

 

“No. Harry!” she tries, her voice breaking but he doesn’t turn back to her. 

 

“It’s ok, I deserve that.” 

 

“I do,” she says meekly, knowing that he doesn’t believe her, and if she’s being honest she’s not sure she believes it herself. 

 

His hands clench once, twice. “I think we should take Muggle transportation back to London.” He’s back to all business now, and she feels so ashamed she doesn’t protest as he starts telling her how it’s going to be. 

 

“I know apparating may seem safer, but we don’t know who’s watching. And quite frankly...” he trails off and seems in conflict with himself. “No. Scratch that. We’ll apparate, it’s safest.” 

 

“No, Harry. What was the original plan?” She has an idea of what he was beginning to suggest, but she wants to hear him say it. 

 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not happening.”

 

“Not five minutes ago you said you wouldn’t keep me in the dark. You ask me to trust you, but you can’t make it this long without going back on your word?” she challenged. She knew it was a low hit, but she also knew a question of his honor was probably the only thing that would get him to talk. 

 

His eyes flashed dangerously green and for a moment she’s sure she sees what the people he’s after see. 

 

“Fine.” he bit out, voice hard. “If you were anyone else I’d use you as bait. Try and get them to come after you, and keep doing what they’ve been doing.” 

 

“So that’s what we’ll do,” she responded calmly, the plan made sense to her. 

 

“It’s off the table. Forget I mentioned it.” 

 

“No. I am willing to listen to you, but you need to recognize I am not some wilting flower. I can handle myself. Now I don’t like the idea of being hunted, but if this will help expose whoever this is then I’m all for it. And you should be too. It’s a good plan, Harry.” 

 

He shut his eyes and she wondered if he was counting to ten or practicing breathing exercises before he responded. 

 

“ _If_ I agree to this” he started, clearly not ready to agree with her yet, “If I agree to this you are going to have to stop arguing with me over every single decision.”

 

She bit her cheek to keep herself from responding the way she’d like “Fine. But only if what you’re saying makes sense.” 

 

“Hermione,” he growled 

 

“Fine. I’ll try not to argue,” she conceded. 

 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Try is all I can promise you.” 

 

“Fine.” he replied, parroting her whether he realizes it or not. 

 

There is a long awkward moment between them and then he reached into his jacket pocket. 

 

Silently he handed her a slim booklet and she realized it’s a British passport. She felt like an idiot, just then remembering she’d left hers at her flat. “How’d you get this? I didn’t tell you where my flat was.” 

 

He just gestures at her to open it and when she did she realized it’s not her real passport. This one has her picture but everything else is different. 

 

“Fakes,” he said simply, waving a matching one at her that he still held in his hand. 

 

“Mary Anne Richards, 27, from Brighton.” she read, “Do I really look like a Brighton girl to you?” but he just gave her a look. “Who are you?”

 

“Um, Jonathan Richards.” 

 

“Brother and sister?” she asked and when she sees him blush knows she’s made a mistake. 

 

“No. Not exactly,” and his eyes darted to the ring on her left hand.

 

“Oh. Of course. Of course. That makes sense,” she stammered.

 

The silence stretched between them before he finally speaks. “We’ll take a bus to the next decent size town and then rent a car and head for Calais.”

 

“We’re going to take the Chunnel back to England?”

 

“Correct. That should give whoever is after you plenty of opportunity to make a move.” She could tell by the set of his jaw he still wasn’t happy with the plan. 

 

“Well then, we should get going. Can’t say I’m going to miss the place,” she said with forced levity. 

 

He didn’t reply and then before she knew what was happening he was taking her by the hand and pulling her towards the door. 

 

She stared at their clasped hands and didn’t move. When he turned to see why she wasn’t following, he spots where she’s looking. 

 

“Jonathan and Mary Anne Richards, right?” he asked, voice not betraying the strained look on his face. 

 

“Right,” she agreed quietly, and let him lead them out the door, trying to ignore the tingle in her palm where her hand was pressed into his.   

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

She had settled her bill the day before so they didn’t have to stop on the way out. Harry chucked the keys on the bar and a few steps later they were on the street, heading towards the neighboring town. 

 

He kept hold of her hand while they walked even though they were both silent. When the village was mostly out of sight, she realized with a start this was where she had been attacked. 

 

“Oh,” she said with a startled gasp and Harry whipped his head towards her, wand out. 

 

“What is it?” he asked tensely.

 

“Sorry, it’s just this is where it happened. The other night,” she clarified, scanning the trees to see if there was any evidence of the short battle. 

 

“Show me,” he said tersely and dropped her hand, bringing his wand around and casting what she could only assume were some sort of detection spells. 

 

“Well, it’s hard to tell really. It was dark, and it was hard to see.And then there was that pesky fighting for my life thing,” she snapped, still irritated with him from earlier and then  there was the whole holding her hand incident and she was understandably on edge. 

 

He didn’t rise to the bait and she fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. 

 

She walked a few more yards down the road and then called out, “Here. There are spell marks on these trees, and the ground’s disturbed. I think this is where I fell.” She tried to sound as detached and unaffected as she could, but the longer she stood there, the more she remembered how frightened she had been that night and she wrapped her arms around herself tight. 

 

His hand brushed over her back as he came up behind her and she was glad she wasn’t alone this time. 

 

After a few minutes he turned back to her. “There was certainly a battle here. Multiple spells. Too many actually. It’s hard to work out which ones are yours and which ones are theirs.”

 

“I’m guessing mine won’t include any unforgivable,” and he inclined his head in her direction as acknowledgement. She had thought she had seen one green spell miss her by a few feet but she didn’t want to bring it up. The look on his face told her he knew anyways. 

 

“Any way to tell who it was?” she asked 

 

“Not really. Too much of a mess and I’m not really familiar with the...well, let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve been around here.”

 

“I wonder if he’s been to the town. It’s the closest wizarding village in over two hundred miles.”

 

“I asked around some yesterday. No one’s noticed anyone new besides you.” 

 

She looked at him in surprise. “I never thought they even noticed me.” 

 

“Post master said you come in once a year, midsummer.” He left the statement open ended, expecting her to fill in the blanks for him.

 

“Yeah. I did.” She almost thought about leaving it at that. “I’d send a note to Hagrid on your birthday to ask if he’d heard from you. He never had.” 

 

He was quiet again. “No, he wouldn’t. When I left you that day I never returned. Haven’t been back to England until yesterday.” 

 

While she was still processing what he said, he was making his way down the road. 

 

She jogged a bit to catch up with him and he didn’t say anything else until they entered the next town. 

 

“The bus won’t arrive for almost an hour,” she said, looking at the sign. 

 

“How about we get something to eat while we wait,” he suggested, and she pointed to a little coffee shop she had been to before. 

 

Two cups of espresso and a couple of croissants later they were still sitting silently at a small table under a red awning. 

 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” she asked suddenly.

 

His eyes shot to hers. “How do you mean?” he asked even though he knew exactly what she meant.

 

“Is it going to be awkward and weird between us? I don’t want that,” she answered honestly.

 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he replied and slid his hand over hers, squeezing it gently.

 

“That’s good. That’s very good,” and she gave him a small smile. 

 

Just then the bus pulled in and they made their way over. It was only the two of them and a man waiting to board. It didn’t escape her notice that Harry maneuvered her in front of his chest and kept a hand low on her back, while still managing to not let the stranger out of his sight. 

 

There were plenty of open seats and Harry directed her to a grouping in the back that was mostly empty. The man who got on with them sat closer to the front and struck up a familiar conversation with someone who had already been on the bus. Their accents were definitely local and she didn’t think there was any way the man could be suspicious. 

 

Once the bus started she leaned in close to Harry and waited for him to tilt his head down towards her. “Could we stop by my flat? There are things I should get. Arrangements I should make.”

 

She saw a muscle ticking in his jaw and she knew he didn’t like the idea. “Ten minutes. That’s all I’ll need. I promise. And my flat is close to the bus stop.” 

 

“Ten minutes,” he conceded, although she could tell he wasnot thrilled with the idea. 

 

The walk to her building was tense. Harry was constantly scanning their surroundings and she could tell he was nervous about being there, and that he wasn’t used to feeling nervous. 

 

From the end of the hall she could see that there were several notes stuck to her door, most likely from Sarah. Harry moved himself in front of her and had his wand out as he approached. 

 

He cast the same detection spells he had in the woods and when he was finished brought her wards down with little effort, much to her chagrin. 

 

“No one else has been here. Not since you left,” he confirmed. “You’ve got ten minutes,”  and then he moved to look out the windows. 

 

She considered giving him a piece of her mind but realized it would cut into her ‘ten minutes’. She stalked back to her bedroom and brought down a decent sized duffel bag from the top of her closet.  A few more changes of clothes and her shrunken down trunk were the only things she really wanted. Everything else would keep until she came back. 

 

In the living room Harry was still moving from window to window keeping an eye out. He didn’t even turn her way when she entered the room.  

 

Her laptop was where she left it and as soon as it booted up she sent apologetic emails to her department head and the chair of her dissertation committee, telling them she had an unexpected family emergency back in England and she would contact them later about rescheduling her defense, even if it meant her graduation would be postponed.  

 

She dashed a quick note off to Sarah and turned to Harry with two minutes to spare. “Ha!” she said with a flourish. “Didn’t even need the full ten minutes.” 

 

He didn’t smile at her though, barely even spared her a glance. 

 

“When does the next bus come?” he said tersely 

 

“Half past. What’s wrong?” 

 

“I don’t know. Just have a weird feeling,” he said while staring out at the street below. “You ready?” he asked, finally giving her a look. “What’s with the bag?” gesturing at her normal sized duffel. 

 

“I thought it might look strange for two people to be traveling so much without any luggage. Thought we were supposed to be flying under the radar.” 

 

“Of course. Good idea,” he replied, clearly annoyed that he hadn’t had that thought himself. “So let’s get going. If we get a car soon we could be in Calais tonight in time to get the last train to London.”

 

They were halfway to the stop when she had the feeling again, that prickle on the back of her neck. “Harry,” she said low “I think we’re being watched,” but she didn’t break her stride or turn around as much as she wanted to. 

 

“I know. Just keep walking.” His left hand was on the small of her back again, and she could see him reach into his jacket with his right and leave it there, no doubt holding his wand. 

 

She clutched the strap to the bag tighter and fought the urge to run. The stop was only a short distance away now and she could hear the bus coming up the street, not that the bus was guaranteed safety, but she knew she would feel better once she was on it. 

 

They were the only ones waiting this time and Harry was crowded behind her, forcing her up the steps almost as soon as the doors opened. They chose a seat towards the back again, Harry at the window which he looked intently out of until the campus was out of sight. 

 

She let her head fall back with a sigh and let her eyes fall shut, feeling her heartbeat begin to return to normal. Harry’s hand covered hers where it rested on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. 

 

“How long until you think we can get a car?” he asks and she knows he’s trying to get her mind off of what had just happened.

 

“The nearest decent sized city is maybe sixty miles from here. We’ve probably got almost two hours by bus.” That muscle in his jaw ticked again, he didn’t want to spend that long in one place, especially one where they were sitting ducks. 

 

“How’d you know something was wrong?” he asked after a long bout of silence.

 

“I had that feeling again,” she admitted

 

“The pain?” 

 

“No, that... I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just sort of this awareness I guess. That I’m being watched or that someone magical is there. I got it when you were in my room yesterday as well.”

 

“And you’ve never felt that before?” 

 

“Other than the past week? No. Never.” She thought for a bit and then continued, “And I think it’s fair to say that the feeling wasn’t as strong this time.”

 

He didn’t respond. 

 

“What do you think it means?” she asks, slight edge to her voice as she wasn’t enjoying this taciturn and tight lipped Harry sitting next to her.

 

“Not sure.” 

 

“Don’t lie to me Harry. I said I would try to not fight you, but you said you would tell me what was going on. So tell me!” The last part was spoken in a harsh whisper and a woman a few rows before them shifted in her seat slightly. 

 

Harry turned his head so only she could hear him and his voice was deadly calm when he spoke. “I’m telling you what I know. But you need to keep your voice down, unless you’d like to make yourself even more of a walking target than you already are.” 

 

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, partly due to shame for being petulant and being called on it, and partly because she didn’t think she particularly liked ‘Auror Harry’ and she just wanted her friend back. 

 

He must have seen her struggle for control or recognized he had been a bit harsh because he was lifting his arm to wrap around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. “Come here. I’m sorry. I just need you to be safe. Why don’t you try and rest until we get there.” 

 

She hesitated at first, but she hadn’t had decent sleep in so long the invitation was too good to resist. 

 

She let her head rest on his chest and laid her left hand across his middle, feeling where his wand sat in a holster under his jacket. His hand ghosted across her hair and between the lulling of the bus and the stress catching up with her, she was asleep sooner than she expected. 

 

The next thing she knew he was shaking her slightly and whispering her name. She lifted her head and blinked owlishly before looking out the window and seeing that they were now in a much more populated area. Cars whizzed by, bicyclists careened around corners, and the sidewalks were busy. 

 

She sat up all the way and rubbed self consciously at her cheek, wondering if she had any marks on it. She gave him a slight smile “Thanks. You make a good pillow.” She had been going for light and funny, but the second the words were out of her mouth she wished she could take them back as she had a flash of memory to the night in the tent where she had also used him as pillow, just one with much less clothing on. 

 

He must have had the same thought because he cleared his throat roughly and turned to look out the window, refusing to look at her. 

 

She shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath. She finger combed her hair as best she could and straightened her clothes. When she was done, Harry seemed to be over it. 

 

When the bus finally stopped they stepped into the aisle and Harry once again maneuvered himself in front of her, reaching a hand behind him in clear invitation for her to take it. 

 

She didn’t even bother to roll her eyes to herself this time and merely slipped her hand into his, not able to suppress the little thrill that shot through her when his thumb stroked once as a silent thank you. 

 

Hermione stopped and asked the driver where they could get a car before they exited, and thanked the man when he told her of a place not too far from where they were. 

 

Once they were on the street Harry pulled her in close to his side and hurried them away from the crowd as quickly as possible. She translated where they were heading and was glad to see that after a couple of turns the crowd thinned out and it was easier to see who was around them. 

 

However, the one drawback to there being fewer people around was that it made it easier for whoever was following her to attack.They learned that the hard way. 

 

The building they wanted was in sight and she could feel some of the tension ease out of Harry’s shoulders. Just as they were about to cross the street, a bike messenger came flying around the corner and narrowly missed her. Only Harry jerking her out of the way kept her from being run over. It also kept her from being hit by the spell that went by right where she had been standing. 

 

They didn’t say a word, they just ran. Harry headed to the left and she followed him, wands out. 

 

The corner of a brick building provided adequate cover and he pressed her back with a hand across her middle until she pushed it off. Harry peeked around the corner, but there was no one there. No bike messenger, no pedestrian. Nothing. 

 

“Get to the shop. I’ll cover you,” he said, voice strained, and she knew better than to argue with him. 

 

“Now,” he said and she darted across the street, not daring to look back. 

 

As soon as she was inside, she tried to calm herself down quickly so they didn’t look out of place.  A few seconds later the door opened and Harry entered, looking like absolutely nothing was wrong. The only tell she could detect was when he grabbed her hand and held it harder than usual. His eyes asked if she was alright and she gave him a smile and a nod to reassure him, but she could tell he was vibrating with tension and just wanted to get out of there. 

 

They made their way to the counter and the oblivious clerk. She handled the transaction since she spoke the best French. When it came time to pay she hesitated. She may have a fake passport, but her credit card was not in the same name and she knew she didn’t have enough cash on her to pay the full amount. Just as the feeling of panic began to set in Harry reached around her and laid more than enough bills on the counter to cover the car. 

 

“There’s enough there to make sure no one follows us,” he whispers in her ear, with a smile for the clerk, making it seem like he was telling her intimate things for her only. 

 

She couldn’t suppress the shiver that went through her and she covered it by giving a fake little giggle. 

 

She turned back to the clerk and separated out the extra money, making sure he noticed it and then concocted a story about how a jealous ex of hers had spotted them in the next town, followed them here, and they just wanted some peace so would he be so kind as to not mention that they were here renting a car if anyone came looking for them? She made her eyes as wide and innocent as possible and bit her lower lip in pretend distress and the poor man didn’t know what hit him. He assured them no one would know they were there and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning across the counter to buss the blushing man on both cheeks. 

 

“Merci,” Harry said cheerfully before grabbing the keys and paperwork. “Coming dear?” he asked innocently before they headed out a side door where the cars were kept. 

 

Their car was a dark sedan. Harry had asked her to get something with some power, and the newer Mercedes they walked up to would hopefully do the trick. A button on the key fob opened the trunk and she tossed their bag in. 

 

Harry already had the car started and a map out when she got in the passenger’s seat. 

“Know where we’re going?” she asked with a slightly teasing tone. 

 

He studied the map carefully and then turned to her. “Yeah, should be about four hours. If we don’t make too many stops we could get there before the last train leaves. I don’t like the idea of having to stay over another night.” He handed her the map. “Want to be my navigator?” 

 

“Telling you what to do and where to go? I think I have some experience in this area,” she said with a grin and took the map from him. 

 

“Forget I said anything,” he threw back, and she was glad to see he’d relaxed some, although she caught him looking out the rearview mirror quite a bit until they were out of the city. 

 

But as the miles ticked by she could see him begin to get anxious again. The hand on the steering wheel tightened and the set of his jaw was harder. She knew he was thinking about their surprise attack. 

 

“Any idea who it could be?” she finally asked, breaking the silence

 

“No clue. Don’t have enough information to even begin to guess.” 

 

The hand that wasn’t on the wheel began to drum incessantly on the steering column and she looked at him worriedly. Then suddenly that hand formed a fist and he banged it down once in frustration on the dash. “Damn!” he cursed harshly and she jumped at his outburst. 

 

He rubbed a tired hand across his forehead before sending her an apologetic glance. “I never asked any questions about Ron’s attack. I never asked how it happened or what they had found out. I just assumed it was an attempted robbery. But it’s connected to what’s happening here, it has to be.” 

 

She ran a soothing hand down his arm. “It’ll be ok. You can ask all the questions you want when we get there tonight.” He didn’t answer her, but he gave a stiff nod. 

 

When he felt they weren’t being followed and were far enough out of the city he pulled off at a small town where they grabbed something to eat and she ran into the bathroom quickly, although she knew he wasn’t happy for her to be out of his sight. 

 

When she came out he was waiting with two to go cups of coffee and some sandwiches in a bag. 

 

They ate as they drove, and about two hours from their destination they went through another small city which seemed to make him nervous. 

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

 

“When it gets crowded like this it’s hard to tell if we’re being followed.” 

 

She was silent, and sat stiffly in the seat, studying the map in case they needed to find another way. 

 

They broke away from the city and were on a mostly desolate stretch of country road when suddenly their speed increased dramatically. She looked towards Harry but he was completely focused on driving. “We’ve got a tail, hang on,” he ground out, eyes darting to the mirror every other second. 

 

The roads were hilly here and often had sharp bends to them, but the car was solid and it handled well. Still, she found herself shutting her eyes when he took them around the next turn and the wheels screeched in protest. 

 

There was a long straight stretch and Harry kept speeding up, trying to put distance between them, when suddenly the back window exploded in a shower of glass. 

 

“Get down!” he yelled, pushing her down below the back of the seat and whipping his head around to see who was behind them. 

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel little bits of glass in her hair. She pulled her wand and risked rising up some so she could see over the seat. 

 

“Hermione! What the hell are you doing? Stay down!” 

 

But she ignored him and knew that he couldn’t risk taking his hands off the wheel to deal with her just then. 

 

She fired a reducto spell at the front tire of the large black car right behind them, but it swerved out of the way in time. 

 

“I swear to Merlin, if you don’t get the hell down. RIGHT NOW!” he roared, and she ducked back down, but not because he told her to. 

 

He jerked the wheel hard to the left and she banged her head on the dash and was grateful she had left her seat belt on. 

 

Once again she ignored him and took aim at the tire, but before she could fire she saw the faint glint of a wand sending multiple spells in quick succession and she had the prescient thought that there would be no way to avoid what was about to happen. 

 

“Har...” she began in warning and then everything went black. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Two separate reductos had hit each of their back tires and there was no where for Harry to go. He tried to keep the car on the ground but it was futile. At the speed they had been going, the force of the blasts knocked them to the right and as soon as they hit the embankment the car went up and flipped twice before coming to a rest on the other side of the road. 

 

Hermione came to with blood in her eyes and the acrid smell of petrol in the air. Harry was frantically calling her name but she couldn’t tell where he was. Her head throbbed and when she tried to bring her arm up to touch it she hissed in pain and didn’t move anymore. 

 

She heard Harry again and then felt his hand on the side of her face. “‘Mione! Wake up! Please!” he sounded desperate and when she blinked her eyes open he sagged in relief. 

 

“We have to get out of here,” he said carefully, making sure she understood. “The petrol’s leaking. It’s not safe.” She tried to nod her head that she understood but regretted the choice as another flare of pain went through her and she thought it would be nice to just shut her eyes for a little bit. 

 

“Mione!” Harry yelled again and she jolted awake and saw the blind panic in his eyes. “Just stay with me a little while longer, ok? Can you do that?” She didn’t try and nod but she kept her eyes open. 

 

“Good girl. Now I know you’re hurt but I need you to try and open your door.” She didn’t like the sound of that. She could barely lift a hand and he wanted her to open a door, but the part of her brain that was still somewhat functioning told her she needed to listen and get out of the car. 

 

Gritting her teeth she grabbed at the handle and felt it give but she could only push it a few inches before it was stopped by the hill they were up against. There was no way she could get out the door. 

 

“Damn!” he cursed and then turned to his own door. He had to kick at it a few times before it finally opened. 

 

The next thing she knew Harry was leaning in through the broken passenger window. He held her head in his hand and seemed to be examining her. Then he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead and apologized. “I’m so sorry, but this is going to hurt like hell.” 

 

Before she could comprehend what he meant he had slid both arms under hers from behind and was starting to pull her bodily through the window. 

 

Stars flashed before her eyes and she may have yelled out, she wasn’t sure since the shock was starting to set in. She could feel a cool sheen of sweat break out all over and she had the absent thought that she was about to pass out again.

 

As Harry pulled her backwards the glass that was still left in the window bit into any exposed skin and left jagged tears in her clothes. 

 

Then suddenly she was out and he fell backwards with her landing on top of him. He was panting heavily but she couldn’t move to get off of him. 

 

His hands were on her face again, pushing her matted hair out of the way “We have to get further away.” Harry tried to move Hermione so that he could get out from under her. He must have knocked something because she cried out in pain and sagged against him, nothing but black in front of her eyes save a few sparkling white dots. 

 

“‘Mione...baby please.” He was almost sobbing now in desperation. 

 

“ ‘m sorry” she managed and shifted her weight as well she could to give him space to get up. 

 

“It’s ok. It’s ok,” he repeated, kneeling next to her. 

 

Her teeth were starting to chatter now and it wasn’t from being cold. Without warning he slid one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back and then he was carrying her down the road away from the remains of their car. 

 

She didn’t think the pain could have gotten worse, but it did. She let her head fall to his shoulder and let the blackness claim her.

 

When she came to again they were in a grassy field. The first thing she saw was blue sky and clouds and realized she must be lying down. 

 

She felt a moment of panic when she didn’t see Harry and then turned her head to the right and saw him slumped against a tree, one arm cradled protectively over his middle, glasses broken, and various cuts and bruises, including one nasty looking gash on his left temple. 

 

She sat up slowly and realized she was in a lot less pain than she had been the last time she had been conscious.  Her arm was numb and her head ached, but she could move without much effort and didn’t feel the need to vomit from her injuries. 

 

She crawled to Harry’s side and put a tentative hand on his knee. “Harry,” she called softly. She called again and gave him a little shake, causing him to groan. 

 

On the ground around him were several empty potion bottles as well as what remained of his kit. Their wands were there too. 

 

It hit her all at once what he had done. 

 

“You stupid, daft, idiot!” she whispered furiously, wiping angry tears away with the back of her hand. “Now where have you left us? Healing me and leaving nothing for yourself. It’s a good thing you’re unconscious right now or I’d knock you out myself!”

 

She dug through the kit hoping to find something she could use and found only two unused vials; one for snake bite, and one blood replenishing potion. 

 

She felt a whine of panic begin in her head and the rush of blood to her ears made her temporarily deaf. And then she shook it off and pulled herself back together. 

 

Picking up her wand with shaking hands she performed the same diagnostic spell she had seen Harry do the night before. 

 

Concussion, two broken ribs, and there was something seriously wrong with his right shoulder. 

 

She leaned in close and wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling his body forward until he slumped against her shoulder with a low moan. The black leather jacket had protected him from the crash somewhat, except there was long dagger of broken glass stuck in his shoulder from the back. 

 

She had to swallow down the bile that threatened to rise and took a few deep breaths through her nose before she could look at it properly. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but the area was wet with blood and it was obvious the wound had bled profusely at first. 

 

Deciding she needed to get the glass out before she could do anything else she held tight to Harry’s head where it pressed against her collarbone, wrapped her free hand in her scarf, took hold of the glass and pulled before she could think about what she was doing. 

 

Harry stiffened in her arms and made a sound so unnatural and horrible she didn’t think it could have come from a human. 

 

She threw the glass as far as she could and let him tip sideways until he was resting on the ground. Quickly, she unwrapped the scarf from her neck, then struggled to get his arm out of the jacket without hurting him anymore than necessary. 

 

He wasn’t making any noise now and that scared her. She just worked faster. 

 

With the jacket out of the way she could see where the dark blood stain had spread over his shirt. She gripped the two sides of the torn fabric where the glass had gone in and pulled, letting her finally get a look at the wound. 

 

It was only about two inches wide, but it was deep and still seeping. She folded the scarf and pressed it over the area, pushing down as hard as she dared considering he also had broken ribs. She’d gladly kill for some Essence of Dittany. 

 

With one hand on her makeshift bandage the other searched on the ground for the vials she had pulled out and found the blood replenishing potion. With a cry of triumph she grabbed it and the pulled the stopper out with her teeth before spitting it on the ground. 

 

She dropped the scarf for a moment and then lifted Harry’s head just enough so he wouldn’t choke when she put the vial to his lips and poured a little at a time. She was glad to notice he seemed to be coherent enough to swallow. 

 

When it was empty she laid him back down and started casting every healing spell she knew. Her knowledge was limited and she vowed when they got out of this that she would buy the first medical spell book she could get her hands on and learn it all. 

 

The shoulder wound had stopped bleeding and was looking a bit better, although it was by no means healed. She ripped the scarf in half and used the relatively clean part as a sort of combination bandage and sling. 

 

Once that was taken care of she moved on to his ribs. The healing charms took away some of the pain and stabilized the fractures so there was no risk of him puncturing a lung, but she hoped when he woke up he’d be able to do a better job than she had. 

 

When Hermione got to his head she noted his breathing had become more even and his color had also improved. Taking the broken glasses from his face she sat them aside with a rueful shake of her head; she’d have to fix those. Again. 

 

The gash on his temple had also stopped bleeding, but it was starting to bruise and she hoped it hadn’t caused any sort of internal damage. She didn’t think either of them was equipped to handle that. 

 

She stroked a finger across a scrape high on his cheek and was overwhelmed with the memory of how he looked when Hagrid had carried him out of the forest, supposedly dead. 

 

Her tears dropping onto his face were her first indication she was crying. With a gasp Hermione sat up and leaned back against the tree and then let her head fall forward to her bent knees while she let it all catch up with her. 

 

When she was finished, she felt worse than ever. Her head was throbbing again and there was a deep ache in her arm. She hadn’t even looked to see what was wrong. As soon as she did she wished she hadn’t. The world swam for a minute and then she took a few deep breaths. Her sleeve had been ripped away and there was a long jagged cut that extended almost all the way from shoulder to elbow. He had clearly tried to heal her completely, but had only been able to seal the two sides, it still looked raw and angry and reminded her too much of the scar on her other arm. It also hurt terribly. 

 

The small field they were in was far enough back from the road that no one driving by could see them. She knew their car had to have been noticed by now, and she hoped when Harry woke up he’d be able to make it another mile up the road to the next town. She remembered seeing a sign right before they were attacked. 

 

She had no idea how Harry had gotten her here in his condition. Between his shoulders and his ribs there should have been no way for him to have carried her, but she knew adrenaline was an amazing thing and allowed people to do acts they normally wouldn’t have been capable of.  

 

She didn’t know what they were going to do now. Their attacker appeared to have left them after the wreck, not bothering to see if they were dead or alive, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be back. They now had no car, and there was no way there were going to make Calais tonight. 

 

Her head fell back and she let the tree support her. She only intended to rest her eyes for a moment before she tried to wake Harry, but her head was pounding and the light hurt. That was the last thing she remembered. 

 

She was shivering when she woke up again. Dusk was approaching and a slight wind had come up. Her jacket and bag were still in the car. 

 

She was still propped up against the tree; however, Harry was nowhere to be seen. 

 

In a second she had scrambled to her feet. Other than her wand, there was nothing left from before. No vials, no kit, no Harry. 

 

“Harry!” she screamed, his name was torn from her throat without thought. She stumbled in the direction of what she thought was the road, disbelief clouding her mind that he could have abandoned her. 

 

And then he was there, right in front of her, still using her scarf as a sling with her duffel bag hanging off his good shoulder. 

 

She dropped to her knees, her legs refusing to support her and he was kneeling right in front of her. “You left,” she managed to gasp out. 

 

“I didn’t leave,” he said desperately. “I just went to get the bag from the car. That’s all. I swear ‘Mione. I didn’t leave. I won’t leave.” 

 

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” she said, as if by saying it out loud she could somehow make sense of it. “You left.”

 

“No.” he said with more force and grabbed her chin with his thumb, making her look at him. “I didn’t leave. I won’t leave.” 

 

“You just went to get the bag?” 

 

“That’s it. You were still sleeping and I thought I could be back before you woke up. I’m so sorry I didn’t wait.” She could see the genuine contrition in his eyes. 

 

“Ok,” she said softly, trying to tramp down the feelings of betrayal and abandonment. And then she took in his still broken glasses and his injured arm and she remembered what he had done earlier. 

 

She pushed herself to her feet and took a step backwards. “What the hell were you thinking! You used all the potions on me and left yourself dying from shock while I was unconscious! Have you lost all sense?”

 

He had the good grace to look sheepish and scrubbed a nervous hand over the back of his neck. “It wasn’t my finest hour,” he admitted. “I was so scared and worried about you. You don’t understand ‘Mione. You were covered in blood and I couldn’t get you to wake up.” He paused for a moment to compose himself. “I didn’t realize how bad off I was until it was too late. By then my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t hold my wand anymore and I couldn’t get the potion open. I just had to hope you woke up in time to save my sorry arse.”

 

“Well lucky for you I did!” she yelled back, still angry at him for what he had done. “And do you know what I woke up to? You, unconscious, with a great long piece of glass sticking out of your back, and broken ribs, and looking like your head had been bashed in by a bludger!” Her venting was cathartic.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked hesitantly 

 

“Like I went three rounds with Fluffy.” She was glad to see him crack a small smile. “How about you?” 

 

“Somewhere between knocked off my broom during a quidditch match and just defeated a Dark Lord.” 

 

“That sounds about right,” she agreed, and then she was wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest with a shuddering sigh.

 

He clutched her to him and she felt him press a kiss into her hair. They stayed like that for a long moment. 

 

When she stepped back she felt better, not physically, but emotionally. 

 

“So what are we doing now?” she asked.

 

“Up for a walk? There’s a town not too far. We’ll have to stay for the night and then regroup.” 

 

“You think they’re still here?” 

 

“I don’t think so. I think if they were we’d know by now, but I don’t want to take a chance.” He glanced around somewhat nervously and she knew he didn’t like that it was starting to get dark. 

 

“Well, let’s get going then,” she stated and tried to take the bag from him but he wouldn’t let her. 

 

He helped her get her jacket on. She whimpered as the fabric settled over her unhealed gash, but there was nothing she could do about it except try to move it as little as possible. 

 

“Alright?” he asked, concern evident in his voice and she gave him a tight nod.

 

And then she stopped him. “Wait,” she said and pulled her wand out before pointing it at his face. “Oculus Reparo,” she said simply, smiling tenderly at the memory. 

 

“Thanks ‘Mione. Never did get around to learning that one,” he said with a grin. But she knew he had to be lying. There was no way he had gone four years without breaking his glasses. A thought fluttered through her mind. ‘I wonder if he thought about me every time he used it.’ and then she shook off the maudlin specter and they started up the path to the road. 

 

They were slow going. Neither of them could walk very fast without jostling their respective injured arms, and with every step she took there was a pain in her left knee. 

 

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked like there was a spreading stain on the lower leg of her jeans. She hadn’t noticed anything before, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Determined not to delay them any further she tried to block it out and ignore it the best she could. 

 

It was almost full dark when they made it to the outskirts of the town. She sighed with relief.  Harry just pressed on, and when they passed under a street lamp she saw a sheen of sweat on his brow. 

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and her tone ensured she would not tolerate him lying.

 

“Arm.” he gritted out. “I’ll be ok. But it would be best if we find a place fast.”

 

And then, as if someone had heard them, she saw a hanging sign four doors up announcing a Bed and Breakfast. 

She cast two quick cleansing spells on them to get off the worst of the dirt and some of the blood, but there was nothing else she could do for their obviously haggard appearance. 

 

There was no one at the counter and she was forced to ring a little bell at the desk and wait. Harry slid into a convenient chair and shut his eyes. His face looked green and his jaw was clenched. 

 

Finally a small older woman approached and gasped when she saw them. In a string of rapid fire French the woman interrogated them. Harry just looked at her and gave a little shrug. He obviously was going to let her go with whatever cover story she wanted. 

 

Her brain hurt and the effort it took to try and translate must have been evident because the owner quickly switched to English. Hermione explained that they had been in a car accident and that they required a room for the night. In the morning they would call the rental company and make arrangements to have the car towed. 

 

The woman tut-tutted and tried to insist they go to nearest medical clinic, but Harry interrupted her. “My wife’s a doctor. She’ll look after us just fine,” he assured her and Hermione felt her cheeks flush at his words. 

 

He tried to reach into his back pocket to get his wallet but he couldn’t reach it with his bad arm and her cheeks stayed red as she fished it out for him. 

 

They paid for a room and breakfast the next morning and then Hermione asked if the woman had a first aid kit she could borrow. 

 

They had to wait another excruciating five minutes before she came back with what looked like a surprisingly thorough kit. 

 

The stairs were torture, especially her left leg, and now she thought she could feel blood running down it whenever it bent. 

 

By the time the owner had finished turning down the bed, showing them the towels, and pointing out the excellent view of the garden, Hermione thought Harry was either going to pass out or throw up. She thanked the woman several times, reassured her that is was nothing a little washing up and aspirin couldn’t fix and then she was ushering her out the door. 

 

As soon as it was shut she locked it and put up her wards, taking a moment to feel them pulse slightly under her hand and know that they were out of danger for now. 

 

Harry was swaying on his feet when she turned back and she grabbed him by the front of his jacket and helped him into a nearby chair. 

 

There were complimentary muffins on a side table and she quickly shoved one in his hands. “Eat. Your blood sugar is crashing.” She had recalled some odd comment by her father about some of his patients getting so worked up about going to the dentist they would be on adrenaline highs. Then by the time they were ready to leave they would practically pass out in the lobby. The stress combined with how little that had eaten today made for a dangerous mix. 

 

Harry looked at her like she had grown another head but she just pointed at the muffin and then at him and he took an obedient bite. 

 

While he was eating she put the first aid kit on the bed and opened it up. It looked like it had everything they needed in the short term besides sutures.

 

She kicked off her trainers and took off her jacket, biting her lip to keep from shouting out when she had to peel it off her arm. She couldn’t keep from whimpering though and Harry shot her a look which she ignored. 

 

She didn’t want to look at her leg, but she knew she had to. Without a thought to modesty she undid her belt and let her jeans fall.  It took some effort to get them off. She could see clearly now that it was in fact blood that had seeped through the bottom. 

 

Her knee was a mangled mess. It must have been crushed against the door frame when the car rolled. There were bruises and scrapes and one area where it looked like it must have gotten caught on something because there was now a chunk of flesh missing. 

 

“What the hell is that?” Harry said and lurched out of his chair towards her, forcing her back onto the bed.

 

He managed to kneel next to the bed and get a good look at it. “Gods ‘Mione. I’m sorry. I must have missed this.” 

 

“Forget it. You did the best you could,” she assured him.

 

Hermione pushed him aside and limped her way into the bathroom to grab some flannels, wetting them with warm water. She risked a look in the mirror and at first thought she was looking at someone else. 

 

Her hair was a complete disaster with matted blood, bits of glass, and even some foliage. There was gash along her hairline that was bruising rather spectacularly and she had a fat lip, not to mention various cuts and scrapes over the rest of her face. Her shirt was beyond ruined. The right sleeve was gone and the rest was a torn, dirty, bloody mess. With a sigh she pulled her left arm out of the remaining sleeve and then eased the rest over her head before balling it up and chucking it in the bin. 

 

She walked back into the bedroom with two wet flannels and in nothing but her bra and knickers but she couldn’t have cared less. 

 

“Strip” she said to Harry, and enjoyed the slightly gobsmacked appearance on his face at what she was, or rather was not, wearing. 

 

“I’m sorry?” he said in disbelief.

 

“Strip. It’ll make it easier to find all our wounds and the quicker we get that sorted the quicker we can go to sleep.” She was so tired now she could weep, and the king sized bed was taunting her. 

 

The only way she was going to get through this was to act as no-nonsense ‘Hogwarts Hermione’ as possible, even if inside she had a mass of butterflies. 

 

Harry was slow to respond and then he slid his jacket off his bad shoulder and tried to get it off the other but he was having trouble. Taking pity on him she set the flannels down and helped him. 

 

When it was apparent he wouldn’t be able to undo the buttons on his shirt either she resigned herself to the task. Not meeting his eyes she swatted his hand away as he made a feeble attempt and made quick work of his shirt, trying not to stare at his chest as it was revealed. 

 

She undid what was left of her scarf and sent it the way of her shirt. When she came back he was working on his belt buckle. “I’ve got this,” he said tersely and she let him be. 

 

While he was busy with his pants she opened the bottle of antiseptic and gathered some gauze squares. She quite purposely did not look down when she made her way over to him, just gave him a little push and forced him to sit on the bed. 

 

“This is probably going to sting,” she said in warning and began dabbing all the little cuts and scrapes on his face and neck, wincing with him. She used the flannel to wash away all the dried blood and grime and then made her way to his shoulder. 

 

She picked the bottle up, and before he could ready himself she poured a long stream over the wound. He jumped and one hand came out as reflex and landed on her waist, his fingers curling into the soft skin of her hip. 

 

She gasped at the contact, but he didn’t move his hand. She gulped audibly and continued what she was doing. The butterfly bandages would have to do for keeping it shut. She taped a gauze square over it and then finally stepped back, forcing his hand to fall away. 

 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks Hermione,” he said, voice rough. 

There was a pregnant pause and then he reached his hand out. “Here. Your turn.” 

 

“It’s ok. I can get it if you want to rest,” she protested, but he merely took the items out of her hand and stood up, looming over her and invading her personal space. 

 

“Sit,” he commanded and she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

 

They didn’t talk while he worked. She tried hard not to flinch but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. She had a row of matching butterfly bandages on her arm, and when he got to her knee she couldn’t help but moan and clutch handfuls of blankets to keep from jumping. She felt sick when he was done and she sat very, very, still, trying to control her breathing while he cleaned up their mess. 

 

When she felt the bed dip beside her she looked over and saw him studying the map from the car. 

 

His finger was tracing the road they had been on. “I don’t think we can go to Calais,” he said suddenly.

 

“Why?”

 

“Look.” he said and then pointed to where he had just had his finger. “This road only goes toward Calais. Whoever was after us has to know that’s where we were heading.” 

 

“May I?” she asked, and he handed her the map.

 

After a moment she handed it back. “We’ll have to go through Brussels. The train goes from there into London and there’s no reason for them to think we’ve turned back.  If we leave in the morning we could be in London by the afternoon.”

 

He looks at the map for a long moment and then nodded. “It’ll work,” he said and folded the map up. 

 

She didn’t realize it but she started to sway from exhaustion and he coaxed her up long enough to pull the covers all the way back and help her in before climbing in after her. 

 

It took them both a few minutes to find positions that weren’t painful. Hermione ended up with her back towards Harry and felt him hesitate before he lightly laid his hand over her hip. She was grateful for the contact. 

 

She wanted to talk to him, but she was so exhausted that the most she can manage is a mumbled good night. She was asleep before she could hear if he answered her. 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

They awoke later than intended. Hermione came to gradually, first hearing birds chirping and the dull hum of a vacuum nearby. Then she felt the throbbing in her head and how her muscles had stiffened up overnight. She tentatively flexed her leg and immediately regretted it. However, the thing that got her attention fully was the smell of fresh, rich, French coffee. 

 

She dared to peek open one eye and saw Harry with his back to her. He was dressed, without her assistance she noted, and must have been in the shower already as his hair was still wet. He was wearing another dark button down and black trousers that he had pulled from somewhere. 

 

He turned around and saw that she was awake and came to her side. Other than holding his arm quite still he was moving rather normally. “Hey,” He said softly and pushed a fall of hair off her cheek. “How are you feeling?” 

 

“Terrible” She admitted “You seem like you’re doing better.” 

 

“Shoulder’s still a mess, but everything else seems to be healing up. The shower helped.” 

 

“Could you bring it to me then?” She asked in all seriousness

 

“How about I help you in there and then when you get out we can have something to eat before settling the issue of the destroyed Mercedes we left down the road.” 

 

He pulled back the covers, and she had completely forgotten she was only in her underwear. 

 

“I’m sure I look a fright.” She said wryly, trying to diffuse the tension. 

 

“Just a bit more colorful than usual.” He replied and extended his hand to help her up. 

 

It took more effort than she expected just to swing her legs over the side and sit up. By the time she had accomplished this small victory she was sweating again and was sure her face was grey. 

 

She could see various bruises and contusions. Her knee was the worst. It was swollen and an array of colors, bending it didn’t seem to be an option. 

 

“You alright?” He asked, cupping her cheek in his hand. She leaned into it and let her eyes shut. “Yeah, I just need a minute.” 

 

He didn’t move until she covered his hand with hers and gave him a smile. 

 

The walk to the bathroom was slow and tedious but she was feeling more stable by the time they arrived at their destination. 

 

“I won’t be far.” He assured her. “I’ll just pop downstairs and grab you a tray.” She knew he was worried about her thinking he was going to disappear again and she appreciated his efforts to keep that from happening. 

 

He slipped out of the room and she avoided looking in the mirror, there was no way she looked better than she had last night. 

 

Soon, steam was filling the small space and she stripped off what was left of her clothing and let it too join it’s former wardrobe mates in the bin. 

 

With her knee a mangled mess, stepping over the side of the tub was a challenge but she managed. And then there was nothing but blissfully hot water.  It found every scrape and cut and sent fire down her arm but it was exactly what she needed. The provided shampoo was sure to leave her hair feeling like straw, but a drying charm would help and anything was better than its current state. 

 

The longer she stayed in there however, the worse she felt. She didn’t know if it was the trauma of the day before, the lack of food, her concussion, or some odd mix of all three. All she knew was she was feeling more and more light headed, and the once welcomed heat was making her feel queasy.  Her knee felt hot to the touch and she didn’t think that was a good thing. 

 

With a shaking hand she shut off the water and listened hard trying to hear Harry. Her bag was in the other room and she didn’t think she had the strength to go get it. 

 

Getting out was even more undignified than getting in. She eventually resigned herself to sitting on the side of the tub and then pulling her legs over one by one. Even that took considerable effort. 

 

Still sitting on the edge she was able to reach a towel and attempt to dry herself off, but after bending down to reach her feet resulted in her head swimming so much she almost ended up on the floor she settled for just wrapping it around her. 

 

“Harry” She called out trying to sound as normal as possible. She waited a few beats and then called again but there was no response. He must still be downstairs. 

 

With a sigh she pulled herself upright and clutched the doorknob while the room tilted and spun and then against her better judgement, opened the door. 

 

Carefully and deliberately she made her way across the room and was feeling quite proud of herself when a wave of dizziness hit her and she stumbled sideways, luckily only finding the bed. She lowered herself to the floor as carefully as she could but she still ended up knocking her knee and sucked air through her teeth at the pain. 

 

Slumped against the bed, towel dangerously close to coming undone, with her head tipped back on the scratchy duvet trying to control her breathing was how Harry found her when he returned. 

 

She was spinning the ring on her left hand, an unconscious coping mechanism she had developed over the past few years, when the door opened and he stepped through struggling with a tray. 

 

He didn’t spot her at first. His right arm wasn’t much use, and the tray was an awkward size. He kicked the door shut with his foot and slid the tray onto the nearest flat surface before spotting her. 

 

“Hermione!” He shouted before darting to her side. 

 

“Wards.” She said simply, as she knew he hadn’t had time to recast them. 

 

“Sod the wards. What’s wrong?” His hand cupped her jaw and then felt her forehead “You’re warm.” 

 

“It’s just from the shower. I made it too hot and now I’m dizzy.” She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew he could see through her charade. 

 

He gave her an incredulous look but held his tongue. “Come on, let’s get you up, I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat.” and he went to grab her elbow to help her rise. 

 

“No.” She said, holding up a hand to cut him off “I’m good where I am, if you wouldn’t mind handing me some juice.” She didn’t want to admit to him exactly how terrible she felt. She was hoping food would improve her condition. 

 

She saw him fight an internal battle and then he got up with a sigh and stalked over to reset the wards before moving on to the tray. She let her eyes fall shut and took the moment of respite while it was there. 

 

When she opened her eyes again he had lay a small plate with a croissant and some fruit at her side and held a glass of what looked to be orange juice. “Just the heat from the shower?” he said darkly, but she ignored him and held out her hand for the glass. 

 

It took her twenty minutes to sip the juice and force herself to nibble on the food. Harry sat in the chair and watched her with a disapproving look on his face but he didn’t say anything. 

 

Finally she pushed the plate away and looked at him. “I feel better.” and then continued before he could argue with her. “Truly. I do. A few more healing spells and maybe even an aspirin and I’ll more than make it to London.” 

 

He was still giving her a look like he didn’t believe her but came over to give her a hand up.  With one hand in his and the other keeping her towel from falling off she was suddenly once again on two legs. There was only a brief flash of dizziness she was happy to note and she smiled at him like she had just gotten the answer right in class. 

 

He rolled his eyes and went back to his chair while she rifled through the duffel bag and then disappeared into the bathroom again to change. 

 

Her hair...mess didn’t even begin to describe it. The drying charm didn’t help either, in fact, it may have made it worse. She had found a clip in the bottom of her bag and made a half hearted attempt to pull the mass of curls into some semblance of order but she couldn’t raise her right arm high enough for that to happen, maybe Harry could help her. Between the two of them they had a working set of arms. 

 

She cast a few healing charms, mostly on her knee, and swallowed two aspirin she had grabbed out of the medical kit hoping they would kick in soon. She never thought she would miss Madame Pomfrey and the hospital wing, but right now she would take an overnight there gladly. 

 

Feeling a bit more human she rejoined Harry and found he had poured her a cup of coffee and had been looking at the map again. 

 

She smiled her appreciation and took a large swallow, savoring the flavor. How had he known she’d become addicted to the stuff while at university? 

 

“Feeling better?” He asked, nodding towards the knee 

 

“Some. But I’ll be glad to see St. Mungo’s later today.” Then she held out the clip “Would you mind? I can’t seem to manage on my own.”

 

He came to stand behind her, and a shiver went through her when he swept the hair off her neck, his fingers cool on her overheated skin.  It took a few tries but eventually they got it to work, even if it looked a bit sloppy. 

 

“Thanks for the help.” She said, his hand still laying on the back of her neck. He moved to stand in front of her and let his hand trail around underneath her ear and over her jawline. Her heart fluttered, and she hoped he couldn’t tell her heartbeat had increased. 

 

“You still feel warm.” He said, concern in his eyes. 

 

“I’ll be fine. I took some aspirin. No worries.” She assured him and then grabbed a black scarf from the bag and turned her attention on him. 

 

“Here, that arm will feel better if it’s immobilized. I considered putting you in a full body bind but I thought you might get a bit tetchy at that.” She smiled at the growl he gave her and then busied herself making him a sling that kept the arm pressed into his chest. 

 

“I don’t like this Hermione. It makes it difficult to get to my wand.” He said tersely, pulling slightly at the wrap and making moves with his hand like he was attempting to reach his wand. 

 

“Stop.” She admonished “I have no doubt that you’d be able to get to your wand if necessary. Now let’s go get the car sorted so we can get on our way.” She said and stepped away to finish packing the bag with their few belongings. 

 

“No need.” He said smugly and dug a set of keys out of his pocket, dangling them in front of her. 

 

“What?” she said in surprise not understanding “How early did you wake up?”

 

“Our kind hostess took pity on the, quote “Poor hurt young couple.” and took it upon herself to call her son who happens to own the local tow company.  He brought the car in last night. They also called the number of the rental company and explained the situation. I don’t know what she said to them, but they actually sent someone out here early this morning with a brand new car and left all the paperwork for their insurance file. All I had to do was sign and stick it in the post. Your chariot awaits you, m’lady.” He gave the keys a little shake for emphasis. 

 

She gaped at him open mouthed trying to process the story he’d just told her and a small part of her wondered if it was all true, but then her head gave a throb and she realized she didn’t care as long as it got them to London quicker. 

 

“That’s amazing, Harry!” And felt compelled to give him a hug, although not as enthusiastically as she typically would have given their injuries.  When she pulled back she plucked the keys from his unsuspecting fingers. 

 

“Hermione!” He bellowed “Give them back.”

 

She gave him a look worthy of McGonagall “Not a chance, Potter. You honestly think you can drive with that arm the way it is.” she said, nodding at his virtually worthless limb. 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. She could see the muscles clench in his jaw and she knew he was flashing back to yesterday and the car wreck. 

 

“‘Mione, please.” He was fighting for control. 

 

She stepped in close until there was hardly any space between them and laid her hand along his cheek. “Trust me.” She whispered, knowing what she was asking of him. 

 

She felt a tremble go through him and then his eyes locked with hers. He held her gaze and then lowered his head so their foreheads were touching. “I just need for you to be safe.” 

 

Her breath caught at his words. It wasn’t the first time he had said that. “I’m with you.” She said simply and then stepped back before things got even more intense. 

 

Not surprising it took longer than it should of for them to take their leave of the inn. The owner fussed and fluttered and tried to get them to stay another night. Finally they were walking around to the back where yet another dark colored Mercedes awaited them. 

 

She hesitated only a moment before opening the driver’s door and she felt Harry’s eyes on her. Their gazes met across the roof and he allowed her to see the naked fear there before he schooled his features and slid in.  

 

Soon enough they were headed back the way they came and it took all of her considerable concentration to not shake when they drove past the wreck site. The tires marks and gouges from where they hit the embankment were still quite evident. 

 

Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden and she brushed they away angrily with the back of her hand. She saw Harry start as if to touch her but couldn’t due to his arm. His head hit the head rest behind him in frustration. 

 

The car was silent until they reached the turn off and were now heading northeast for the France/Belgium border. They both relaxed somewhat then and Harry suggest they stop at the next town so she could stretch her leg. She thought it was more likely he was going barmy being cooped up in one place for so long with nothing to do. 

 

But she did as he asked and pulled over just outside of a town with a lovely view of the countryside.  There was a small park area with a monument to some long ago war and she headed for a low concrete bench while Harry slipped into a small shop. 

 

It was quiet here. No one else was around and the sun was warm enough on her back. Harry sat next to her and pressed a cup into her hand. She took it without comment and continued her watch. 

 

Harry sipped his drink and she wondered if he was itching to go. Suddenly, and without intent she blurted out a question. “Where have you been?”

 

He flinched, causing the hot liquid to spill over the lip and he hissed in surprise while absently sucking the back of his hand. 

 

She continued before he could speak. “I don’t mean your work. I know you can’t tell me about that. But where did you go when you apparated out of that room four years ago?” She wasn’t going to let this go on any longer without knowing at least that much. 

 

He slowly and methodically sat the cup by his feet before he spoke. When he did he stared at the monument and not at her. “You have to understand, Hermione, I was numb back then. There really isn’t another word for it. I had just finished what I had quite literally been born to do. Accomplished all my life’s goals at the ripe old age of 17. I had no idea who I was outside of killing Voldemort. And then he was gone and I was left.” His voice was bitter and had an edge to it, even now. She thought about touching him but something in her said not to. 

 

“The Weasley’s were great, but I was suffocating there. Ginny wanted to use our relationship as a way to get over her grief about Fred, and I just wanted her to leave me alone. I was also very confused about us.” He admitted, gesturing between them. 

 

He stood up and began to pace in front of her. 

 

“When you went to find your parents it was only Ron and I and he just wanted to play quidditch and forget the last year had even happened. But I couldn’t. It’s all I thought about. I relived the last year over and over again. Wondering if I could have done something different, saved more people.” His voice caught and she felt a flash of guilt go through her, wondering if she should have brought this up right then. 

 

“That’s when I got it into my head that I needed to get out of there. I needed to go someplace where no one had heard of me. I wanted to run away. I wanted to go right then but I needed to see you one last time.” He gave her a sad smile and a small shrug. 

 

“I couldn’t tell you where I went. I know I jumped around a lot. I know you almost caught me a couple of times. You came closer than you think once.” 

 

“Portugal.” She said with a strangled voice and he just nodded. 

 

“And then I found a place to disappear to, where I knew you couldn’t follow.” He wouldn’t look her direction and she found she couldn’t look at him right then either. 

 

“No one knew me. I was invisible. I had enough money to live off of and..” He trailed off, taking off his glasses and scrubbing a tired hand over his face, clearly on edge. He turned so his back was towards her before he spoke again. “I drank, Hermione. For a year straight, all I did was drink.” 

 

She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Harry.” She said sadly, tears springing to her eyes over the pain he must have been in. 

 

He still didn’t turn around and she saw him swallow several times. “I got into a bit of trouble with the local law enforcement and ended up in jail. I didn’t know who to call, and in a moment of complete drunken arrogance I decided the Ministry owed me something, so I called Kingsley.” 

 

Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she listened to his story, not believing this could be about Harry. 

 

“So Kingsley Shakelbolt, Minister of Magic, bailed my pathetic arse out of Muggle jail. When I sobered up the next day he was still there and I realized I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing. Kingsley had a deal for me.  If I stayed straight he’d put me through a sort of modified Auror training, and I would work for him personally. My only request was that I not have to return to England.” Her heart clenched at his words and she tried not to take it personally. 

 

“I can’t tell you much else. I probably shouldn’t have said half of what I have, but you’ve sussed most of it out. There have been so many times I wanted to come back, but I didn’t think I deserved to after what I had done. Mr.Weasley is the only one who knew how to get ahold of me, he would pass on news about Ron and the others, but all I knew about you was that you had left for Muggle university.  So many times I wanted to find you but I wouldn’t let myself.” Finally he turned to her, naked fear in his eyes as he waited for her reaction, clearly expecting her to leave him there and never look back. 

 

“Don’t.” she said sternly “Don’t feel guilty. You did what you felt you had to do.” And she waited until he looked at her. “It was hard, Harry. It was so bloody hard, and no one  else knows that. No one else knows what we went through, what we sacrificed! I don’t look down on you for it.” He tried to pull away from her but she captured his face in her hands. “Look at me.” She commanded and when he did her heart broke. Her thumbs stroked the dark bruises under his eyes and she surprised herself when she lifted up and pressed her lips to his. With their noses touching she whispered “I forgive you.” 

 

He was silent for a long moment and then his shoulders started shaking. She wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him down until he could rest his head above her heart and she let him weep. He didn’t make a sound and that made her all the more sad for him. Her other hand coasted over his back and hair, trying to soothe. 

 

When hewas done he brought his good arm up and wrapped it around her, pulling her in so close she’s afraid he’s going to hurt himself but she doesn’t have the heart to pull away. “Thank you.” He whispered throatily into her hair. Then his hand was at her jaw, coaxing it up and he’s returning her kiss. It’s chaste and over much too soon for her liking. 

 

He pulled back and looked down at her and she gave him a brilliant smile. She flushed and buried her head face in his chest, shaking her head a little as if she can’t herself believe what has just transpired. Then he pressed his lips to her temple and gives her arm a tug.

 

She looks at the war monument one last time before they leave, thinking it’s fitting they’ve had this talk here considering it was a war that had kept them apart all this time. Her fingers brushed against his hand as they walk back and he gave them a squeeze before walking her to the drivers side and opening the door for her. 

 

They are less than an hour from their destination and as they approach the border she became more antsy, watching the cars around them especially if anyone got too close. She’d even started fiddling with the ring again. 

 

“Hey.” Harry says suddenly “Just drive. I’m the look out, and we’re fine.” 

 

She gave him a sheepish smile and tried to settle down. The traffic steadily increased as they neared the border and she notices that now he’s the one checking the mirrors almost constantly.  

 

“Pull off over there.” he said, startling her. 

 

“What?”

 

“Pull off, just over there.” as he pointed to a shoulder on the side of the road. 

 

By the time she’d put it in park her hands were shaking. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

 

He turned towards her and winced “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just realized we’re going to have to go through border control and the men at the gate may find our freshly bruised faces highly suspicious.”

 

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and ran a hand over her hair. “Of course. Good catch. Do you think a few glamours would do?”

 

“Should be enough. Push comes to shove we can always Confound them.” and she gave him a mocking glare. 

 

When they’re done the bruising had faded and all the visible cuts and scrapes are hidden. “What’s our story?” she asked as she pulled back onto the highway, seeing signs for the crossing ahead. 

 

“Second honeymoon?” he suggested and she nodded once, not trusting her voice

 

The border agents are being thorough that day, but they buy the story of traveling through Europe as an anniversary getaway, and soon enough ‘Madame and Monsieur Richards’ are on their way. 

 

They’re only an hour out now and with every passing mile that doesn’t bring a large black car trying to kill them she feels like their chances are better. Her knee however, was starting to make itself be known again. The aspirin from that morning had worn off, along with the healing charm and she didn’t think another one was going to do the trick anymore. She was also starting to feel worse, but she didn’t dare tell Harry. 

 

Her skin was hot and her headache was back, not to mention the constant throbbing from her knee. She assumed it was infected, but there was nothing she could do for it now and soon enough they would be at St. Mungo’s where everything would be healed and put to new again. 

 

They made it into the city before rush hour and found the train station easily enough. She was exhausted when she finally put the car into park and sat for an extra few seconds while Harry got the bag out of the trunk. He opened the door and peered down at her. “Alright ‘Mione?” 

 

“Never better.” She replied and took his proffered hand, having to grip it for balance as spots appeared before her eyes when she stood. He looked at her hard. Placing weight on her bad leg was going to be problematic she realized and had to bite her lip at the first few steps until she figured out exactly what she could and couldn’t do with it. 

 

“Hey,” He said, catching her wrist “I need to know how bad it is.” Auror Harry once again

 

“My knee’s a bloody mess, probably as bad as your shoulder.” She said somewhat tetchy. “I’ll be alright though. I’ll certainly make it until we get to the hospital.” Her tone softer, and she reached a hand up to brush the fringe away from his forehead. 

 

“You’ll tell me if it gets worse.” He demanded and she kept from rolling her eyes as she agreed. 

 

Once inside she was delighted to discover that a train was leaving for London in twenty minutes and was already boarding. They quickly purchased tickets and showed their passports before Harry was hustling her through the terminal as fast as her leg would allow. 

 

His hand was at the small of her back again, but she welcomed the comfort, and soon enough he’s guiding her through the cars until they find one that is completely empty. 

 

He stowed their bag with some effort having only one useable arm and then they collapse next to each other in a seat. She was exhausted from their dash to the train and suddenly felt worse. Her head fell sideways to rest on his shoulder and he laid a hand on her thigh before brushing a kiss across her forehead. “Gods ‘Mione, you’re burning up.” He said “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”

 

“It wasn’t. I think the walk here just did me in.” She admitted “I told you, I’ll make it to London.”  He seemed like he believed her but when the next steward passed by he asked for aspirin and water and swore under his breath when they tell him they’re not allowed to dispense medication. 

 

“It’s ok, Harry.” She assured him, covering his hand with hers. 

 

“It’s not bloody ok at all.” He replied angrily. And she choose to ignore him. 

 

When the train departs he stopped his furtive scanning of the other passengers and people milling around outside the train. “We good?” she asked tiredly

 

“Seem to be unless they’re in another car.” He admitted and an involuntary shudder went through her. 

 

He lifted his good arm and wrapped it around her shoulders tugging her towards him. “Just rest. We’ll be there soon enough.” He said and stroked her hair back from her face where it escaped their poorly placed clip. 

 

It felt like only a few minutes later when he’s giving her a shake and whispering her name, telling her they’ve arrived. 

 

England. All of a sudden she was awake and the full impact of what she’s about to experience hit her. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I just...I just realized I haven’t been back in so long. I wonder if they’ll all hate me.” She admitted.

 

He ran a hand soothingly up and down her arm “They’re not going to hate you.  When I got back they acted like I had never left.”

 

“Yes, well, you were always the favorite.” she said petulantly but he just laughed and held her tighter “You’ll be fine.” He assured her. 

 

Her head was pounding now but she didn’t know if it was from her fear of the unknown or her injuries. One look at Harry let her know that their glamours had worn off. The bruising along his hairline extended almost all the way to one eye. 

 

Fake passports out one more time and then she was in the Motherland. They made their way through the terminal and then Harry was guiding her down a dark hallway. 

 

“Thought we could just apparate from here.” He explained and she nodded, and then worried her lip as a thought crossed her mind. 

 

“What is it?” He said, looking around them in case they had been followed. 

 

“It’s just...” And she flushed furiously, embarrassed she had to ask him this “I haven’t apparated in so long, do you think you could...” 

 

“Side along?” He finished and she just nodded her head, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

 

“It’s ok.” He reassured her and wrapped his arm around hers “Ready?” Waiting for her nod and then they’re gone. 

 

She’d forgotten how horrible side along apparating is. She was amazed she didn’t throw up as soon as they landed. As it was she had to press her head into Harry’s shoulder and stand very, very still until the dizziness and sickness passed. He was stroking her hair and murmuring into her ear until finally she pushed herself back a bit. 

 

She had never been so glad to see the familiar white walls of St. Mungo’s. Everything looked the same and she felt a lump in her throat as she realized she was about to see Ron again. 

 

She turned happy eyes to Harry “Do you think he’s in the same room?” 

 

“I wouldn’t see why not.” he responded and pressed a kiss to her feverish cheek “And then we’re going to get you looked to.” 

 

“You too, Mr. Potter.” she replied and then linked her hand in his and let him lead the way. 

 

They managed to make it to Ron’s room without being recognized for which she was grateful but when Harry pushed open the door the bed was empty. In fact if it wasn’t for the very familiar knitting bag belonging to Mrs. Weasley sitting by one of the chairs she would have thought they were in the wrong place. 

 

“Where is he?” She asked unnecessarily. 

 

Just then a nurse walked in behind them. “Excuse me.” Hermione called “Could you tell us where Ron Weasley is.” 

 

A strange look passed over the woman’s face and something set off a whine of panic inside Hermione’s head. “I’m sorry dear, Mr. Weasley didn’t make it.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
